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Chapter Text

There’s a pineapple floating in the middle of the corridor.

And, the thing Lily Evans has discovered so far about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is that it’s Big and Unusual.

She’s discovered other things, too, things that Sev had failed to really convey in his tales about the place, like the fact that sometimes when she speaks Mary Macdonald is the only one who understands what she’s saying, that the whole Magical World seems a strange mixture of extraordinary and entirely backwards and that everyone takes the House system disarmingly seriously (Sev had said things to that effect, but she’d assumed some degree of exaggeration. But it isn’t just the students who genuinely dislike each other on account of their house. One boy had even received some awful screaming letter from his mother on the day after the sorting, which an older girl named Marlene McKinnon had told her was called a ‘Howler’ and then said ‘he’s a Black’. She’d had to ask Sev about what that meant later and is still not entirely clear).

The first few weeks had been a culture shock. Incredible, magical, brilliant, but full of this thick confusion too. She’d swung wildly between being awed, homesick, joyful and lost. The latter often manifested physically because, as she’d discovered, the castle was Big and Unusual. Illogical, really. Things she’d always understood to be static moved. Things she’d always assumed to be inanimate talked to you. Ghosts were occasionally helpful and occasionally sent you entirely the wrong way, depending on their disposition. Often, she couldn’t tell whether she didn’t recognise a corridor because she’d never been there before, or if it just looked very similar to a lot of other corridors, or if it just happened to look different at two o’clock on a Tuesday than it did at five o’clock on a Wednesday. She had gotten better at navigating around, in part due to repetition, but also due to developing good strategies of following crowds / developing an awareness of the older Gryffindor’s schedules, in order to shadow their routes if they were going somewhere particularly helpful. She’d done a bit of exploring in an attempt to conceptualise the rough structure of the place, but had come to the conclusion that it was Too Big and Too Illogical to try and understand all at once, while she was still trying to absorb there being ghosts at all and having a wand and post being delivered by owls and being taught how to do spells, proper spells. So she’d resigned herself to memorising a few key routes — to the dormitories, her classes and the Great Hall, to the entrance to the Slytherin Common room, out into the grounds. She’d been intending to take learning the rest of it in segments. She hadn’t really gotten to a plan , but she had a sense of determination that she would plan and explore, and work it all out, just as soon as she’d managed to get on top of her homework and felt on more even-footing.

That hadn’t quite happened yet, but today she’d felt this false-sense of confidence and bravery and had taken a left turn she was sure was a shortcut to meet Severus, and had just been beginning to feel she might be quite lost when she’d run into the pineapple.

Hogwarts being what it was, it wouldn’t be entirely out of the realms of possibility that this corridor always had a pineapple floating in the middle of it.

She’d come to suspend her natural inclination of surprise, because one of the first time she’d displayed shock in one of her lessons -- Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall displaying her cat trick -- she’d noted that two of the snootier Slytherin girls had exchanged pointed looks and sniggered at each other, and she’d felt her face flush with embarrassment. It had been made significantly worse by the fact that Severus, beside her, had winced. Being surprised just highlighted how naive and different she was, so she’d learned to repress it and save her astonishment for when she was wrapped in the sanctuary of her four poster bed. Besides, the second time you accidentally walk through an ancient, headless ghost, you become slightly more immune to shock.

Beyond surprise though, she has come to adopt a healthy attitude of suspicion. She’d witnessed a fair amount of tricks and chaos in the corridors, too. In her third week, the seventh year Prewett brothers had charmed one of the corridors to rain. They’d added a supply of floating umbrellas, too, but if anyone were to grab one, that person suddenly shrunk to be six inches tall. After the first few students fell for it, others started using their bags or pulling their cloaks over their heads to protect themselves from the rain. Lily had opted for using her bag and had been incredibly disappointed to find a soggy-mass where her charms essay used to be. She distantly knew that one day she might be able to fix it by magic when she’d learned enough but that day certainly wasn’t today. Instead, she’d had to write it all over again. Since then, she has operated on a policy of excess caution.

She stops short and assesses the pineapple from a distance. It looks like a relatively normal pineapple, other than the fact that it is floating.

And then she hears voices. It takes her a few moments to place them, but then it all fits together. James Potter and Sirius Black. She’s certainly heard enough of their voices over the first six weeks of school. James Potter and Sirius Black from the train. Sirius Black, who’d received the howler. James Potter, who’d ‘accidentally’ tripped over and knocked all of Sev’s valerian root into his potion in their first class, causing it to explode in their faces. James Potter, who was incredibly loud and disruptive whenever he could think of anything at all to say. James Potter who, when presented with the Prewett’s rain, had cheerfully, delightedly, grabbed hold of the nearest umbrella and made a big show of finding himself staring up at Sirius Black’s ankles. There’d been lots of loud laughter. Sirius Black had picked him in the palm of his hand and said ‘ you’re so short anyway I can’t see much difference to be honest, mate ’ and they’d both guffawed, and then James had declared ‘ join me ’ and Sirius had shrugged, grabbed an umbrella and done so. The third boy, Something-Pettigrew, had ended up carrying them both to Transfiguration in the top pocket of his robes, and they’d attempted to complete the Transfiguration lesson while miniature, sitting atop of the desks to see. They’d performed a comedy routine about attempting to lift up the match they were supposed to be transfiguring into a needle above their heads, declaring ‘oh, we wouldn’t dream of disrupting our education, McGonagall’ whenever she suggested they might go to the Hospital Wing to be resized, or at least shut up about it. Eventually, she’d gotten so thin-lipped and frustrated, that she’d waved her wand and fixed it herself, just as they’d been attempting to build a house for themselves out of donated-matches. James had been balancing on Sirius’ shoulders to erect the roof, and then they’d been a sprawling, disastrous mound of fully-sized eleven year old boys falling over each other and the desks. They’d found this even funnier and, Lily suspected, there was a glint of amusement buried behind McGonagall’s withering look. They had lost Gryffindor fifteen house points and everyone seemed to consider this to be a very good trade off for the entertainment. Besides her, Severus — who’d gotten very wet in the corridor — was seething. Lily made exactly no progress with her match the whole lesson.

“We were wondering,” James Potter’s voice says, “If you liked our Pineapple?”

“Is there another fruit that better suits your tastes?” Another voice asks, this one polite and warm. Lily takes a step forward so that they come into view, positioning herself flat against the wall in order to watch them without being noticed. That voice belongs to Remus Lupin, which is a surprise. Pettigrew is there, too, which is less of a surprise (he’d been shadowing them since the second week). All four of them are standing just behind the levitating pineapple, having previously been hidden by the bend in the corridor. They appear to be talking to the wall. “I see. Perhaps something ---- more citriusy?”

“Like a lime?”

“There’s no limes, Peter, you idiot,” Black says, dismissively, “It has to be something that’s there.”

“Perhaps you could help us?” Lupin says, turning to his left, addressing another part of the wall. “We appreciate all your services so far. You’ve been very informative.”

Potter sniggers. Elbows Black in the gut.

“As I said, we are awfully hungry. We missed lunch, you see ----” Lupin says, which Lily is quite sure isn’t true. She distinctly remembers them — at least Potter and Black — being very loud while she was attempting to read the corresponding chapter from her textbook before Herbology class.

“ -- we were helping an injured owl,” Black adds in, “Very gallant. Very courteous, us.”

“Yes,” Lupin continues, nodding. “An injured owl.”

“Thought our James’ hair was a bird’s nest, see, got frightfully confused.”

“Oi.”

“Took all four of you, did it?” A voice asks. A different voice entirely. Female, older. Lily can’t immediately understand where it’s coming from and then —- then she realises that they’re talking to the portraits.

They’re talking to the portraits about their levitating pineapple.

“Er, yes,” Potter says, “Needed moral support, see.”

“It nearly died.”

“ Would’ve died if we hadn’t —— uh, rescued it from James’ hair.”

“Alright, Rowena,” Lupin says, “I can see you’re much too smart to have the wool pulled over your eyes. There was no bird, but we are very hungry, and all over the castle we’ve heard how —- insightful and helpful you are. We’d be most indebted if you…. Helped us. Or perhaps… well, Sirius here heard that Violet might know more about how these corridors work, so perhaps we’ll speak to her instead….”

“Violet is an imbecile,” The portrait — Rowena— says, “The fruit you seek is good enough to eat in units of two.”

“ Ah, I see. That’s very helpful, thank you.”

“What are we, Ravenclaws?” Potter asks, ruffling his hair and looks away, down towards Lily’s end of the corridor.

“ A pear, you twit. It’s right there.”

“Ooooh, right.”

“And what might we need to do with the Pear? Is there a —- special word? A hand gesture?”

“Should we poke it?” Black asks, and pokes the pineapple. It wobbles mid air. An unfamiliar laugh rings out across the corridor.

“Must be close.”

“ Stroke it? Flick it?”

“Maybe we need to demonstrate with a pear,” Pettigrew says, “Can you get a pear?”

“The problem, Pete, is that to locate a pear, we need access to the kitchens. And to do that…. Well. It all becomes altogether rather circular, you see.”

“Well, where did you find the pineapple?”

“Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies.”

“Maybe you kiss it.”

“ Kiss it. I’ll let you try making out with the fruit, James. Think it might be a bit spikey for my tastes.”

Black prods the pineapple again. There’s another giggle.

“Is the laughter a clue?” Lupin asks. There’s more laughter. “I could tell you a joke?”

This wins chuckles from Potter and Black, but not the disembodied-giggle.

“Must be something physical.”

Internally, something within Lily is screaming tickle it, you’ve got to tickle it. She slams her jaw shut. Continues to watch.

“Well, we’re making progress.” Potter says. “ Definitely nearly there, lads.”

“Poke it again.” Pettigrew instructs. Potter is the one that obliges this time, with a fierce jab, and then —- and then the pineapple goes careening towards the ground, landing with an awful splat, sending chunks of pineapple all over the floor.

Before now, Lily would’ve assumed a pineapple had more structural integrity. Her assumptions prove incorrect. Or perhaps, she’d underestimated the momentum that gravity could produce in such a relatively short distance.

She did not know there was that much flesh inside of a pineapple.

“Well, bugger.” Sirius Black says, and then they all look at each other for a moment, then they’re legging it down the corridor in her direction. Lily, startled, ducks behind a suit of armour. Remus Lupin is calling out a yelled apology to the portraits behind him. James Potter has a hold of Pettigrew’s robes, dragging him along.

“What did you do that for, Black—-? ”

“—- lost my concentration, didn’t I? When some idiot nearly knocked the thing out of the air —- ”

“—- we ought to clean it up — -”

“ — know that spell already, do we Lupin?”

“—- there’s such a thing as mop, James.”

“ — I’m allergic to muggle cleaning,” Sirius Black says, shaking pineapple chunks out of his hair. Pettigrew is laughing, wheezing to keep up, and then they’ve rushed past her, still laughing, arms hanging off each other’s shoulders, giving off the impression of being one entangled four-headed being. Once they’ve disappeared, the corridor is very quiet.

Lily takes one last look at the mess of broken pineapple on the floor, resolutely turns around and walks after their disappearing backs until she’s somewhere she recognizes.

*

Two days later, there’s a new addition to breakfast. Alongside the usual plentiful offerings of bacon, eggs, sausages, pancakes, toast and cereal there’s the usual fruit salad, but today it seems to be almost entirely made up of slices of pineapple.

No one else seems to have taken heed of it, but she notices four boys who’ve laden their normal breakfasts with heaps of the stuff. Black has both pineapple-and-sausage skewered on his fork, with his normal loud, laugher. Both Potter and Pettigrew have constructed a pineapple, bacon and egg sandwich. Lupin has arranged several rings of pineapple on top of his toast. She thinks all four of them are utterly ridiculous.

She also abruptly feels quite lonely.

On the second day, she has tried to eat breakfast with Severus at the Slytherin table. She had consulted with the disinterested fifth year prefect -- Susan Carter -- to see if this was against the rules and she’d informed her it wasn’t. After the fact, Lily very much wished that she’d been more specific and perhaps Susan might have taken notice enough of her question to inform her that it was a very bad idea. It had drawn far more attention than she could’ve expected. It had been humiliating, actually. The disdain she’d been viewed with had turned her inside out. Severus had been embarrassed, too, and hadn’t defended her. He’d looked away, flushed, when that older Slytherin girl had asked her who had given her permission to encroach on their territory. Lily had snapped something sharp back at her, gotten up with as much dignity as she could muster and left the Great Hall entirely. She’d taken herself off to the nearest bathroom to cry. She’d missed the rest of breakfast and then gotten slightly lost, turning up at potions just-on-time having only just gotten herself together. Things had been strained with Severus since. Slightly awkward and tense. She hated it.

It hadn’t won her any friends with the Gryffindors, either.

It’s not that the girls in their dorm were unpleasant, because they were all nice enough, but it was clear that they thought she was slightly strange. They were too large of a group. Seven of them in total, which was just too big to work as a collective unit. They’d already started to divide off into two close-knit groups, neither of which included either her or Mary. And Lily likes Mary just fine, but she can’t shake the feeling that they’ve been thrust together on account of their Muggleness, which she’s felt hideously self-conscious of since the beginning. She’s quite sure Mary would rather be enveloped into Cassandra and Alexandra’s twosome and can feel her attempting to make inroads, her disappointment about being excluded, and it manifests as this awkward space between them. The two of them get along fine , but they don’t have in-jokes, or simple, easy camaraderie. They don’t really understand each other. They’re very different.

It must be nice to have a very good friend within your own house. A group.

Lily’s halfway to standing up to leave breakfast, when a bespectacled eleven year old slams into her left shoulder. James Potter doesn’t lose his momentum, doesn’t even turn around to apologise, instead yells one behind him as he continues racing out of the Hall. Lily’s bag goes flying off her shoulder, drops into the floor. There’s a muffled smashing noise, as ink begins seeping out near her feet. A glance upwards shows Potter is hot on the heels of Black, for reasons entirely unknown. The two of them go careering off towards the entrance hall: narrowly dodging slamming into a group of fifth year Hufflepuffs and opting to run straight through the Bloody Baron with a loud ‘woop’, then disappear out of the door before any of the teachers have roused enough to tell them off for running.

Lily looks down at her bag with a huff.

She bends down to start rescuing her homework from her broken inkwell.

“Here,” A voice says, and then Remus Lupin bends down next to her. He’d been right behind Potter and Black, although moving at much less pace. And, of course, he had actually taken note of the impact they have, because he isn’t entirely self-absorbed . He helps as she pulls out her books and parchment, her fingers coming away blue with ink. He acquires one of the leftover breakfast plates and they start picking out broken bits of glass from her bag, setting them on the plate. He goes to start mopping up the smudge of ink with his robes, but Lily stops him and pulls out a squashed packet of tissues out of her pocket.

“Handy,” Lupin --- Remus, she decides, he can be Remus, he’s helped her and he’s nice -- says. By the time they’ve made a passable job of cleaning up, they're one of the last two in the hall. They head to the entrance way together.

“Defence,” Remus announces, in lieu of them actually having anything to talk about. She’s probably spoken to him more than the other Gryffindor boys, but they don’t know each other very well. Her impression so far is that he’s reserved, polite and kind. Something a bit like shy, but not really.

“Right,” Lily says, making to turn left.

“Remember, Professor Griffis said we’re in classroom six today,” Remus says, stopping her. “Because of the flooding.”

“Oh. Yes,” Lily says, and then pauses, stalls. She feels suddenly incredibly stupid and small. “Remind me where that is, again?”

“Here,” Remus says, nodding towards the stairs, and they set off together.

“They ought to give you a map,” Lily says, huffily.

“ That is a very good idea.” Remus Lupin says, smiling slightly. “Sorry about James.”

“I didn’t know you were friends with that lot.” Lily says, eyeing him carefully. In the beginning, it seemed like Remus had been attempting to keep some kind of distance between himself and the other boys. He’d sat next to her in Charms and next to one of the Ravenclaws in Astronomy, which somewhat bucked the tradition of staying in house-tribes (she was the only other one she knew of who’d done it on purpose). She’d seen him choose a number of different places to eat breakfast, being engaged in polite conversation with Gryffindors from various years, but never the same group consistently.

She’d witnessed a fascinating something transpire between them three weeks ago, where Potter had beckoned him over to work on a four person group project in Herbology. Remus had become very tense, very polite, and told Potter that he was very sorry, but he’d just agreed to work with Mary Macdonald and two Hufflepuff girls. Potter had looked visibly offended by the rejection, and he and Black had spent a lot of the rest of the lesson elbowing each other and communicating in hushed whispers. Lily had glanced at Remus’ back a number of times throughout the lesson. He’d not turned around or reacted once, but his shoulders had remained very still and the back of his neck had been very red. Potter and Black — assisted by Pettigrew and that tiny Hufflepuff boy — accidentally killed their plant and, after, they hadn’t made any further overtures of friendship that Lily had witnessed. It had seemed like Remus had spent his chance.

She’d been somewhat reassured that she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t immediately managed to make a best-friend in her dormitory, and had concluded that she was going to make friends with Remus Lupin. She’d been looking for a good window since, but then he’d gone missing for a few days -- ill, someone said -- and then she’d lost some of her initial conviction.

She’d been surprised to see him with the others in the corridor yesterday. Disappointed, although that wasn’t very fair of her. Clearly, something had shifted. Something had knitted them together. They’d suddenly seemed very close.

“We share a dorm,” Remus Lupin returns, his expression remaining quite neutral.

“ How many detentions have they had so far?”

“Nine,” Remus Lupin returns, and there’s some measure of amusement in his expression now. “Well, Sirius is only on eight.”

“They’re counting,” Lily says, exasperated.

“Aiming for ten by the end of the week.”

“Idiots,” Lily says, folding her arms over her chest. Remus smiles, and she follows him as he veers left and takes her down a corridor she’s sure she’s never seen before. He must take in her owlishly staring around at the walls.

“Sirius’ top tip for navigating the castle,” Remus says, “Speak to the portraits.”

“The portraits.” Lily says, like she hadn’t witnessed this in action yesterday. The only portrait she’s ever spoken to is the Fat Lady. It honestly had not occurred to her to extend that outwards. She just got accustomed to tuning out the occasional chatter she sometimes heard in empty corridors. The idea of befriending them sounds somewhat overwhelming.

“He’s from one of those big magical families. Said that’s how you get around anywhere -- by knowing who's watching and listening, and using it to your advantage.” Remus says, and there’s something slightly admiring in his voice that she doesn’t like very much. There’s already enough people who look up to Potter and Black. “There’s some enchantments that affect how much they’re able to say. Like, they can’t tell you the answers to the homework or tell on you to one of the Professors ---”

“ --- something I’m sure Potter intends to abuse.”

The suggestion of a smile around his mouth deepens. He barrels on, regardless.

“-- it’s interesting magic, actually.”

“All of it’s interesting.” Lily says.

“And entirely overwhelming?”

“That too,” Lily says, smiles, “You don’t seem overwhelmed.”

“The portrait tip helped.” Remus says, “And I --- have you read ‘Hogwarts: A History’?”

“No,” Lily says, regretfully. “We only got everything on the list.”

This has been a point of much consternation since she’s gotten here and discovered that most of her classmates seemed to have bought all sorts of other magical trinkets, nicknacks and books to school with them. She bitterly regretted her parent’s assertion that Dumbledore would ensure that she had everything that she’d require, and she couldn’t get anything else until she understood more about how the world worked.

“They’ll have it in the library. It’s interesting. Helped me.”

“Are your parents wizards?”

“My Dad is,” Lupin says, “Ma’ used to work in insurance, which I have not been adequately able to explain to James.”

“You understand both worlds, then.”

“More than some,” Remus says, and offers her a smile, a very kind one. “Doesn’t make this place any less overwhelming. We’re nearly there now,” Remus says, as they turn down another corridor.

“Classroom six. Next to classroom thirty two. Obviously.”

“Never knowingly logical, Hogwarts.” Remus

Lily huffs.

“You’re much nicer than your friends.” Lily says, inelegantly, in a bit of a rush.

“You don’t like them very much.” Remus comments, slightly dry. He doesn’t turn around to meet her eye.

“Severus’ potion? All that valerian root?” Lily demands, her voice coming out prim and pointed.

Remus frowns, a crease forming in the centre of his forehead. His voice drops lower. Quieter.

“Lily, he was making fun of Sirius getting that letter from his Mum.”

Lily’s jaw slams shut. That --- she believes it. Remus’ voice is coloured in such a way that it comes across as very sincere and --- she has known Severus to be cruel, especially when he feels cornered. That had been the morning of the infamous attempt at eating breakfast at the wrong table. She’d been upset and cross and running late. Severus had been embarrassed. She’d arrived just before class and slumped down in the seat Severus had saved for her feeling incredibly irritated, not being altogether sure if she wanted to sit next to him at that moment. She can believe the Severus Snape of that morning might choose to pick at that awful, horrible letter. And Black wouldn’t’ve deserved it, whatever happened before that, because it really was terrible. Lily hadn’t understood half of what the disembodied voice of his mother had said, but her tone was vile, spiteful, and cruel. Sirius Black had looked determinedly unaffected as he shrugged and made some sarcastic comment about it and he had looked very, very young.

Also, Remus called her Lily. He knows her name.

They’ve nearly joined together with the rest of their classmates now. She only has a few moments before he’s likely to be dragged away, and she’s not sure she’s given off a good impression.

“I take it you found the kitchens, then.” Lily says. Remus hesitates, then he turns to take in her expression and offers her a smile that wreaks mischief. There’s a great deal of respect in that look. She hasn’t experienced many of her classmates treating her with respect . She feels suddenly taller and surer in herself. “Not sure I’d fancy a pineapple on toast.”

“I can confirm,” Remus says, with an air of solemnity, “That it was quite, quite horrible.”

She laughs.

They hit the rest of the Gryffindors.

“There you are, Lupin,” Black says, grabbing a hold of his robe and pulling him towards their group. Remus Lupin allows himself to be dragged. Lily sighs, brushes her hair out of her eyes and searches for an ally.

“Allright, Evans,” Potter says, nods, and then he gestures towards her blue-stained hands, "You've got a bit of ink, you know.”

“Yes,” Lily deadpans, “I’m aware. A result of someone knocking into me. ”

“Oh. Oh. Not to worry, I can clean that right up.” Potters says, cheerfully. He pulls out his wand and waves it experimentally. “ Scourgify.” He declares, and --

--- and quite suddenly Lily is entirely drenched in very cold, soapy water.

“Ah,” Potter says, fretfully. Beside him, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew fall about laughing. The sound of it echoes around the corridor and then, of course, everyone else is looking and laughing. Lily blinks water out of her eyes. “Might’ve --- well, might’ve buggered that up a bit, actually,” Potter says, “Appologies, Evans. A bit --- over the top, I think. My Mum always says my magic is quite --- potent.”

Lily roughly wipes the water off her face with the sleeve of her robes.

“But, I know a drying spell! What is it ---? Something to do with---”

“Best not, James,” Black says, clapping him on the shoulder, “You might set her on fire.”

“Oi,” Potter says, rounding on him. “I’m very talented, look. Scour---”

Black ducks before anything emerges out of Potter’s wand, and then they’re lost in their own pantomime. Lily huffs, shakes water out of her sleeves. Once again, everyone seems to be finding it incredibly funny. Even Remus Lupin is smiling, his gaze fixed on Sirius Black. Lily searches out Mary, and finds her chuckling behind her fingers.

The second the classroom door opens, she stalks in and sits at the desk furthest away from everyone else, she pulls out her books and her parchment and proceeds to drip over all of it, furious.

*

A week later, Lily is having a very bad day. She’d gotten stuck in a trick step and had been late to History of Magic. Then she’d run into that awful Slytherin girl from her second day, who’d cornered her in the corridor and called her something she didn’t really understand but she was sure was an insult. Unfortunately for her, she’d done it in front of Prefect Austin Cathlove, and then Lily had been dragged off to give McGonagall a report she didn’t feel like giving but didn’t know how to get out of. McGonagall had become very grim and had a long conversation with her about a looming war that didn’t make much sense but filled her with dread all the same and it turned the rest of the day dark and difficult. Then she’d come upstairs to be handed a letter from her sister by her dorm mate Roisin Lynch.

It had been effective in it’s simplicity. She’d written weekly to Petunia since the beginning of September, hopeful that the rift that had begun between them some time ago might be healed by her continued effort. She had skimmed over the magical things she’d really wanted to share, like a description of the ceiling in the great hall, floating lights, suits of armour that moved themselves, of learning to fly. She’d written about homework and her teachers and her attempts to make friends. Normal, relatable things. She had not received an answer at all until this letter, which simply read ‘ Don’t write to me anymore. Petunia.’ She had posted it with a stamp, rather than use the owl Lily had last sent, which is probably why it hadn’t come with the morning post.

“Lily,” Remus Lupin says, approaching the alcove she’s secluded herself in the Common Room. She’d been hiding the fact that she’s upset in her homework, but for the last twenty minutes she’s been staring into the fire, attempting not to cry. She jolts out of her thoughts at his voice. She rearranges her Potions textbook to obscure the letter. “That book I mentioned…. My copy. You can borrow it, if you like.”

“Oh,” Lily says. Blinks. “Yes.”

She accepts the book. It is visibly well-read. The spine has well-worn creases in it, the pages seem determined not pressed too close to each other like they’re used to the luxury of being open. She’s always liked second-hand books. She weighs it in her hands. Hogwarts: A History.

“Thank you.” Lily says, and sets it on top of her Potions book.

“You alright?”

“Yes,” Lily says, the determination in her answer clearly audible in her voice. It doesn’t land convincingly. Remus sits in the seat opposite her, waits her out as if he’s expecting her to continue. “My sister…” She says, and leaves it hanging, vague. Remus offers something like a sympathetic nod and doesn’t press any further. He’s nice, Remus Lupin. Kind. She looks back down at the worn cover of the book. “I miss my cat.” This seems to take Remus by surprise. He looks like he considers laughing, then decides better of it. “And my parents.”

“You have a friend from home here, though,” Remus says, “That must be nice.”

This is the first time anyone has said anything positive about the fact that she’s friends with Severus Snape. She wants to protest that everything’s different here , and the whole world is governed by things she doesn’t understand and she can’t shake the feeling that everyone knows more than she does. About magic, culture, making friends.

“Did you know anyone?”

“No,” Remus says, “No one.”

She’s surprised by this. It felt like everyone else had some connections. Cousins, old family friends, parent’s-colleague’s-daughters. James Potter and Sirius Black seem to have already known half the castle by name, or at least knew their whole family history the second they were given a surname. Two of her dorm-mates had first met when they were six, although hadn’t seen each other much since. Most of the others all seemed to recognise some names and faces. Everyone seemed equipped with so much context that she’s behind on, all those conversations in the park with Sev seeming entirely insufficient now she’s here. She should’ve asked more , but she’s growingly aware that Severus Snape is a limited mouthpiece with a limited perspective. Everything she knows of the world that’s supposed to be hers has been filtered through his opinions.

“You didn’t,” Lily begins, “No friends of your Dad’s?”

“We weren’t… in much contact with the Wizarding world, really. Not much of a socialite, my Dad.”

“So you grew up more … muggle?” Lily asks, trying to hold back some of the eagerness in her voice. She has been absolutely desperate to have a conversation with someone who understands more of her world. Someone else, someone other than Mary.

“More or less.”

“Did you go to primary school, then?”

“No. No my --- my mum homeschooled me.”

“Any siblings?”

“No, just the three of us. No cat, either.” He adds, with a good natured grin. Her initial thought is that it sounds horrible, unbearably lonely, but there’s no visible trace of that in his face. She swallows that and looks down at the battered copy of Hogwarts: A History.

“You must like it. The book.”

“Used to be my Dad’s. Nicked it when I was eight. I thought,” Remus begins, then stops himself. His brow furrows as he weighs up his next sentence. “I wasn’t….. We weren’t sure if I could come to Hogwarts. I was ill. So it was … escapism, masochism. Take your pick.”

Lily laughs, thumbs at the cover.

“I’ve seen you —- reading a lot.” Remus says.

“Didn’t used to be big on books,” Lily says, “Mum always used to get ragged on at parents' evenings for me not reading enough, but…”

“But…?”

“I feel,” Lily begins, and then her throat feels very sharp and thick. The threat of tears is there again. “Very behind.”

His expression softens with sympathy.

“You’re not,” He begins, but then wretched, awful Sirius Black appears, clapping a hand on his shoulder. At this exact moment, Lily thinks she might hate him.

“Remus, old chum,” Black says, as loud as he always is, “That’s where you’ve gotten to. James has had the most marvellous idea about exploding snap ---”

“Right,” Remus says, turning to arch a brow at him, “Does it, by any chance, involve exploding them under someone’s bed or, perhaps, in the fireplace?”

“Why yes, actually, you cynical beauty. Evans.”

“Hello, Black.” Lily deadpans, pulling her books closer towards her. She’s not sure whether it’s for her own or her book’s protection.

“Give us a minute, Sirius,” Remus says.

“But you’ve been gone for hours, mate, positively days --- Peter is absolutely lost without you.”

Remus glances back towards their group on the other side of the Common Room. There’s a relatively straight view to the big sofa and coffee-table they’d commandeered. Lily is almost entirely certain that Remus had noticed that she was upset before he’d come over.

“He’s asleep.”

“Pre cisely. Given up on consciousness as a result of his great distress ---”

“Leave off, you berk. I’ve barely been gone. You can entertain yourselves for five more minutes,”

“What if,” Black says, with an air of great drama, “We can’t?”

“Then I suppose we’ll see if Gryffindor tower can survive the boredom of James Potter and Sirius Black for ten minutes.”

“You said five before.”

“Sirius,” Remus says, pointedly, “Piss off.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go,” Black says, with a big huff, flicking his hair and whirling around. Lily watches his retreating back, feeling --- something. Irritation, yes, but there’s something else. If Remus Lupin has in fact been largely cut off from the wizarding world, ill and home schooled, there’s a chance that these are the first real friends he’s ever had. Some of the twisting jealousy she’d felt tightening in her lungs lessens.

Remus had been exceptionally quiet those first few weeks. She can’t deny that they’ve managed to get him to relax, talk, make jokes. Run around the school talking to portraits. Feel confident enough himself to tell Sirius Black to ‘piss off’. It is not his fault that Lily is lonely and projecting notions of friendship on him. Nor is it any of the rest of their fault, really.

“They’re very clingy, your mates.” Lily says, dry.

“Apparently so,” Remus says. He’s hiding it quite well, but she can tell that he’s pleased. Very pleased, and why shouldn’t he be?

“It’s all right, Remus. I’m okay.” Lily says. Remus looks back at her, searching her expression. “ Really.”

“If you like it, there’s some other books you can borrow,” Remus says, eventually, apparently in lieu of knowing what else to say, because he is, of course, still a boy . “The modern history of magical Britain, some stuff about how the ministry works….”

“Thank you. Really.”

Remus nods. His gaze drifts back to where, for reasons that Lily will likely never be able to understand, Potter and Black are performing some sort of deranged waltz with textbooks balanced on their heads. Black is unnaturally good at it. Potter is not.

“I better----”

“Yes,” Lily says, as she gathers up her things. “I should think so.”

She watches them for a few more minutes after he returns. They spend most of that time seemingly trying to convince Remus to join the waltz, which he does not, and the rest seeing how many exploding snap cards they can balance on Peter Pettigrew’s face while he sleeps. They’re all laughing, easy, content.

Lily pulls her bag onto her shoulder and heads up the stairs.

She is perfectly fine for five more minutes, then the day comes crashing round her ears and she begins to cry. Not polite, easy-to-hide tears, but proper, wracking sobs.

It’s the humiliation: the trick step, that sneering Slytherin, Severus , Petunia’s letter, the fact that she feels more alone than everyone else.

“Lily?” Rosin asks, and then she’s sitting on the edge of her bed. She hugs her. Lily has not been hugged since her parents bid her goodbye at Platform 9 ¾ --- Severus isn’t exactly hug-y, she can’t quite imagine hugging him, and things have been all awkward and tense since that second day, and Lily isn’t sure if he doesn’t want to be seen with her -- and it is lovely and quite devastating. She cries harder. For want of some better explanation, she tries out her previous line a second time.

“I feel --- very behind.”

They’ve drawn the attention of Amy Fletcher and Jane Stretten too, now, who both flock to her like moths to light.

“What?” Amy asks. “You’re kidding, right? You’re the only one who’s read any of the textbooks.”

“Right,” Jane agrees.

And then Lily tells them she feels likes she doesn’t have any friends, and Amy tells her they’d thought she didn’t want to be their friend after she’d ran off to the Slytherin’s on the second day, and she tells them about getting lost, and Rosin relays a story about ending up on the seventh floor when she’d only gone up one flight of stairs, and Lily says she feels like she’s got to try harder than everyone else, and the whole thing ends up with the three girls squeezed onto her bed as they finish off the rest of Jane’s collection of chocolate frogs, and things get quite a lot easier after that.

*

The next day the sixth year prefect, Alice Fortescure, manages to subtly pull her and Mary away from breakfast. She says McGonagall had told her what had happened with Jugson-the-awful-Slytherin-girl. She apologies. She offers to tell them anything they want to know. She’s kind, informative and fierce, answering all of their questions with an unwavering honesty that genuinely helps.

Lily remembers asking Severus if it mattered that her parents were muggles and his hesitation before he’d told her that it didn’t. Alice is more honest. She tells them that it shouldn’t matter. She suggests they both take out a subscription to the Prophet, or otherwise acquire one, and they can do this weekly, until they don’t want to anymore.

Roisin, Amy and Jane wait for her at the end of Astronomy, and they head down to lunch together, and it shifts something in her, and she starts to feel lighter.

After Transfiguration, she drags Severus off down a quiet corridor. He’s all awkwardness and insecurity, not looking at her properly in the eye. Lily misses him; her first, original link into this world that’s dizzying, incredible and confusing. She hates these stupid social-rules that means their friendship is under a microscope, but if that’s how it is, then that’s how it is.

“Well,” Lily says, slightly huffy. “If we can’t do meal times, when am I going to see you Sev?”

He looks up at her with this blinding gratitude and offers her a rare smile.

*

She sits with the girls for the rest of the week. She discovers that Amy is brash and feisty; that Roisin is bold and sweet; that Jane is quietly curious. She reads three chapters of ‘Hogwarts: A History.’ She throws the letter from Petunia into the fire. She discovers that she’s actually quite good at potions and, now she’s not so caught up in her own head, she starts to recognise that she’s the only one that feels out of her depth. Now she doesn’t feel trapped in it, she feels a sudden surge of empathy and fondness for Mary Macdonald.

*

The morning after the Halloween feast, Lily is due to meet Severus to make the most of one of the last good days of weather they’re expecting before winter descends. She hesitates at a junction of two corridors, deliberately takes the wrong turn and heads down to the right. There’s no floating pineapple this time. She strides further forward and faces down two portraits: a haughty looking witch in a purple hat and a bowl of fruit.

Talk to the portraits, she tells herself, talk to the portraits.

“Hello Rowena,” Lily says, “I’m Lily Evans, and it’s lovely to meet you.” She arches a challenging brow at her, but makes no further comment. “ Would I be correct in thinking that it might be a —- appetizing thing to do, to tickle the pear?”

Rowena looks her up and down. Eventually, she nods.

“Right then,” Lily says, and then she reaches out to the portrait of the bowl of fruit and tickles the pear. It giggles, high and loud, and the portrait shifts. She’s grinning as she steps over the threshold, into the Kitchens, ready to steal her and Severus a picnic for lunch.

Chapter Text

James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew --- Lily refuses to call them the Marauders, despite what the pretentious prats insist on calling themselves when they think no one's listening--- are attempting some kind of unfathomable construction project that seems to be taking up half of the sodding common room.

It is substantial.

It involves some kind of windmill, which Lily will admit is quite a transfixing and brilliant piece of magic, given that thirty minutes ago it had been a bar of soap and some nail clippers, and now it’s emitting a stream of rainbow coloured bubbles. There’s a remarkably smooth slope constructed from a series of textbooks, there’s a series of poles sticking out of bits of furniture and they are currently doing something complicated with a broomstick. Not the kind of broomstick that anyone would fly , but one that looks a lot like it’s been stolen from one of Filch’s storecupboards and is generally used for sweeping things up. They have a bowl of oranges. James keeps picking them up, weighing them in his hands and then adjusting the size of them with his wand. Every so often, Sirius stops what he’s doing and takes a photograph.

Lily has absolutely no idea what they’re doing.

She would very much like not to care about what they’re doing, because it is patently ridiculous, disruptive and loud, and they’ve already garnered enough attention already. Most of the younger students are openly staring and whispering theories to each other. Some of the older students are more immune to it, but she’s noted Cassie , Alex and Mary eyeing them over their homework, and some of the fifth year girls had already attempted to ask them for an explanation. Lily is quite sure that they’re thoroughly enjoying all the attention and has no desire to give them any more.

And yet, her gaze keeps drifting away from where Amy and Roisin are engaged in a violent card game, back over to the three of them with this horrified fascination, and this big, awful unanswered question.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had siddled over fifteen minutes ago, when they’d started rearranging the sofas, when it seemed like it had gone on too long for him to feasibly keep ignoring it --- his general preferred strategy for handling the lot of them -- and asked them how long they intended to monopolise this much of the space. Lily suspected he’d intervened then because they’d been asking the first years to move in order to feng sui the furniture and, of course, their reputation was such that they’d all actually gone and done it. James had clapped him on the shoulder, all lad-ish and arrogant, and assured him that by the end of Sunday night, all would be back to normal.

Given that it is currently Friday, Lily assumed this would be an issue.

Kingsley had that look like he was seriously regretting ever being made Head Boy.

Sirius had swept in then, oozing charm.

“We’re quite sure everyone will enjoy the finished result, Kingsley. And it’s our Lupin’s birthday on Sunday, you see, and the poor, sorry sod’s gone and caught a stomach bug.”

“Our bathroom didn’t see it coming. Think it’ll take weeks to recover from the shock of it all. Carnage, Kingsley, on his birthday weekend of all weekends.”

“ Exactly. And it’s not every day a man turns fourteen. Well, boy. Adolescent.” Sirius corrected, at Kingsley’s arched eyebrow. “We’re just being good mates, trying to cheer him up after what happened to his favourite — well, best not to discuss it in polite company, but you can imagine. The mess. ”

Kingsley had given him a steady, unimpressed look which had completely silenced him. Lily had made a mental note to ask him how it was achieved.

“You have our word, our great Head Boyship, that no school rule will be broken and no witch, wizard or being, as defined by our good ministry, will be harmed.”

Kingsley had been losing patience at this point.

“You’ll clean up?”

“We solemnly swear,” James had said, with a great sense of gravitas and confidence, “That we will clean up.”

Kingsley had nodded and left them to their own devices. James had cheerfully requested a group of Fourth Year girls take their studying elsewhere, to which they’d agreed, with giggling (letting James Potter on the Quidditch team had been a mistake, as it seemed it had made a larger selection of girls lose their minds), and then he waved his wand and shrunk the coffee table. Then he’d gotten on the floor, and experimentally pushed the orange between the miniature coffee table legs. He said something Lily couldn’t hear to Peter, then he knelt down and assessed the orange too. Sirius had done this very odd backwards walk, then squatted to take another photo of them both.

It was, of course, entirely baffling, but that wasn’t what had hooked her interest, it was that other thing that had caught her attention all along, because —-

The facts were, as disastrous as the four of them were when Remus was around, they were a lot better than what they were like when he wasn’t. And this — stacking the coffee tables on top of each other and, it seemed, attempting to turn them into a water feature — would not have happened if Remus was there.

But he wasn’t.

And —- Lily had contracted a stomach bug in the first two weeks of term. Pomfrey had given her a single potion that tasted like salty feet, checked her temperature and sent her on her way.

She’d seen Remus in Charms earlier that day.

He looked terrible. He’d been very pale, something grim and grey in his parlour. He’d winced when he sat down like he was in pain, and he hadn’t taken any notes though the whole charms double period. It was the way he hadn’t taken notes that bothered her. There were plenty of other students who didn’t, who’d sit and doodle or pass notes or blankly stare into the distance, but he’d pulled it off while appearing very much like he was engaged in the lesson: quill poised over parchment, gaze curious and pondering, the occasional nod to himself. He hadn’t written a single word, and he didn’t attempt the spell, and Lily was quite sure she’d seen it before: that same pallid look, the exhaustion, the fake-interest in class and then —-

—- then the disappearing.

By their last period of potions, he’d been gone. He hadn’t been there at dinner. He certainly wasn’t here now.

Lily gives up on the night at half nine, sure that the rest of her dorm mates will be up for much longer given it’s finally the weekend, especially as, by now, the entirety of the Gryffindor Common Room are watching the three of them, trying to decipher their frankly bizarre behaviour.

(James is currently looking very serious as he jabs at a melon with his wand, Peter is crawling along the floor with an orange in hand, Sirius Black seems to be cutting bits of parchment into triangles, a roll of spello-tape balanced on his head; they have roped in a sixth year she thinks might be called Podmore to take more photos.)

Once she’s established that she is alone in her dormitory, Lily pulls out a bit of parchment she keeps nestled inside the cover of her copy of ‘Hogwarts: A History’ and undoes the charm that usually hides her scrawls from view (Amy is certainly not above prying). 8 March, she writes, Stomach bug.

She distractedly ruffles the feather of her quill, and looks back at her other notes. February 6th, flu. January 8, “argument with a Hippogriff” (James had proffered that excuse, loudly, at breakfast, when asked by Mary, who’d seen Remus in the hospital wing) , December 10, “given time off to go Christmas shopping” (Sirius, when Lily asked) . Nov 24, visiting his mother. Oct 19, visiting his mother. Oct 12, undisclosed potions accident ( All of the latter reasons directly from Remus).

In a point of real insanity last month, she’d written “Remus Lupin is a woman with VERY BAD menstrual cramps” and then scribbled it out because, for a start, the dates didn’t work.

She is friends with Remus Lupin, insofar as anyone who doesn’t sleep in the Gryffindor third year boy’s dorm is allowed to be friends with Remus Lupin.

Their foursome is freakishly insular, really, taking tight-knit to its extremes. They have enough in-jokes that they might as well be speaking in a different language, but they’ve compounded this by creating some bizarre, cryptic code that thinly-veils their commitment to rule breaking. They often give the impression of being one multi-headed bringer of mischief and mayhem, being both entertaining and wholly disruptive. They all finish each other’s sentences. Move about the castle with a strange, almost graceful synchronicity. Sirius and James are the worst — she has witnessed James purposefully get himself in detention just to keep Sirius company, and at points she’s hypothesized they might share one brain (Remus, when she’d said this, had chuckled a lot and said he thought they’d enjoyed that) — but they’re all bad.

Remus has always been marginally less absorbed in their quartet than the rest of them. He at least gives the impression of wanting to be interested in other human beings. Each year, he’d made an effort to sit with Lily in at least one class and he regularly asks about and retains interest in her life. She is sure Remus likes her company and cares about her, but she also knows that, whatever the circumstances, whatever conversation they were in the middle of, if James Potter / Sirius Black / Peter Pettigrew arrived and tried to drag him off there’d be no point trying to retain his attention. Remus would protest, delay, insist that he was busy, that he had a life, but when he rejoined the conversation he’d have one eye on whatever ludicrous thing they were doing at the other side of the Common Room. He would try, Lily would give him that much credit, but the pull of their loud, boisterous banter would always sweep him back in.

Lily had long since given up trying to compete. She’d just shake her head at him, and he’d offer her a sheepish ‘I know’ sort of look, and she’d wave him away. He always seemed genuinely contrite at his inability to resist them, but then Sirius would throw an arm around his shoulders and James would throw some inanimate object at him, and Peter would laugh, and the rest of the world would fall into the distance.

Instead, Lily got his company when they were all in detention and he wasn’t — relatively often, with Peter sometimes joining him too— and on the days he seemed to wake as early as she always did, and they’d head to breakfast together or occasionally go for a walk. They aren’t exactly close, but she finds him easy to talk to, and they are friends, which leads to her having incredibly mixed feelings about her stalkerish notes about his behaviour, it’s just ——-

Last January, Remus had been gone for three days. When he came back, he said he’d had to go home for his aunt's funeral, but he’d looked exceptionally ill. She’d been sitting behind him in History of Magic, bored and utterly unable to focus on Binns because Binns , thinking about where he’d been, and Remus had kept rubbing at his shoulder, scratching at it, and at one point his fingers had come away smeared with blood. He’d jolted when he saw it, quickly wiping his fingers on his robes and glancing around to see if anyone saw. It kept bleeding throughout the rest of the class, and she’d watched him try and subtly stem the flow.

It had struck her that she didn’t know anyone else who’d ever left the castle in term time, yet her memory was littered with instances of Remus being away: visiting his mother, a sick relative, an undisclosed family emergency. He was also so frequently ill. She never questioned the validity of that, because he did always look ill, but then --- she had a stark memory of sitting next to Amy at a Quidditch match, filled with horror at a bludger-hit that should’ve broken bones. ‘ Magical blood,’ she’d said, ‘We’re more robust than most muggles.’ And that seemed to ring true. Lily had always skipped most ailments that went round her primary school, she’d seen plenty of catastrophic injuries that her fellow students sprung back from, and was distantly-aware that very few students seemed to be plagued with colds, or sickness bugs. And if they did catch anything, it was usually resolved within minutes and they emerged none worse for wear . She’d rarely heard of Pomfrey keeping anyone in overnight. Except , Remus Lupin. And when he was ill, he was grim for days.

She’d thought about it over the boredom of summer and then forgotten about it. Then in September, like clockwork, he’d disappeared at the beginning of their third week. After that, she’d started keeping notes. Paying attention. Looking for clues.

There’s definitely something wrong with Remus Lupin and, after this evening, she’s entirely convinced that James, Sirius and Peter know what.

*

By chance, she ends up walking behind them on the way back to the Common Room after spending Saturday afternoon in the grounds with Severus. She recognises them, as always, by the sound of voices, specifically the voice of Sirius Black attempting to talk Remus Lupin into acquiescing to a blindfold.

“Absolutely not. You do enough damage when I can see what you pillocks are doing.”

“It’s essential, for the surprise.”

“That’s precisely what concerns me, Sirius.”

“It’s nothing bad,” Peter says, pitching in, eager.

“That has been said to me about a number of circumstances and situations where it’s proven quite demonstrably false.” Remus says. He’s leaning on Sirius for support, limping slightly. Sirius has an arm thrown over his shoulders in a faux-casual way, but even from this distance Lily can see his grip is very tight.

“Come on, you great big wet blanket.” Sirius says, his voice lower, almost intimate.

“As charming and persuasive as that is, Black.” Remus says, notably out of breath. Sirius seems to notice, too, because then they stop for a rest near the bust of Angelo the Anxious.

Lily had been a dozen paces behind. She forces herself to walk slower, not wanting to appear like she’s been eavesdropping —- which she wouldn’t, normally, and she hadn’t intentionally been doing so now, but…

Remus slumps against the stone for a moment, breathing heavily.

Lily sets her gaze on the centre of the corridor and pretends that she hasn’t noticed them as she begins to fully catch up.

“Are you sure,” Sirius says, his voice even lower, “That you’re alright?”

“Decidedly better than I’d be if you blindfolded me.”

“You could’ve stayed another night.”

“And miss your big surprise?”

“It could’ve waited till the morning. It’s not even really the big day yet.”

“That’s not what James said.”

“James is over-excitable.”

“Is he? Escaped my notice, that.”

“Just say the word, Remus, and Peter here will go tell him —-”

“I’m fine.”

“In that case, I really must insist on the blindfold.”

“No.”

“Evans,” Sirius calls, beckoning her over just as she’s walked six paces past them doing an impression of not being able to hear them. She stalls. Turns around to face them. “You trust Evans.”

“More than you lot when it comes to me being blinded, yes. Hello, Lily.” Remus says, offering a raised hand in greeting.

“Hello, Remus. Are you feeling better?” Lily asks, gaze sliding over both Sirius and Peter. She opts not to acknowledge their existence further, given they have barely extended her the same courtesy.

“Oh yes,” Remus says, affably, which would be more believable if he could stand up.

“Would you believe this man is deathly allergic to pineapple? Gruesome consequences . Taken down by a rogue trifle. Horrible business."

Lily would not, in fact, believe it. Not for a single second. Remus is glancing down at the floor, looking bemused. She suspects he’s resisting the urge to shake his head in amusement only because she’s there to witness it.

Lily folds her arms.

“There was no pineapple in the trifle.”

“That’s what we all thought,” Sirius says, shaking his head with grim sincerity. “That’s what we all thought.”

They are all, all of them, so profoundly sodding ridiculous.

“What do you want, Black?” .

“Right, to business," Sirius says, “ We --- myself, James and Peter here --”

“ -- I know who ‘we’ generally means with you lot, Sirius.”

“Well, we’ve arranged a bit of a -- birthday surprise for our Remus, you see, only the boring old sod doesn’t trust us to blindfold him.”

“They’ve got previous.” Remus says, weakly.

“I’m sure.”

“That thing with the bubotuber pus wasn’t our fault,” Peter pipes up. Lily arches up an eyebrow. Remus shakes his head, with that time-honoured ‘you don’t want to know’ look. She inclines her head, then looks back at Sirius.

“Exactly right, Peter. We’re being held accountable to an awful lot of accidental collateral."

“My scarf, Sirius, that my mother knitted. It’s never been the same.”

“That being the case, would we lead you astray on your birthday? Alright, don’t answer that. But Evans --- Lily Evans is a good sort, she wouldn’t let us lead you blindfolded into a pen of nifflers with gold stuffed into your underthings, would she?”

“That idea came to you entirely too quickly.”

“The fantasies that come to you when you have a pompous shit of a little brother, Remus, you wouldn’t understand. Anyway, if Lily here takes your other arm, will you be a good little Gryffindor and put on your blindfold? I promise you you’ll like your surprise.”

“Would this have anything to do with what you’ve done to the Common Room?” Lily asks, searching Sirius’ expression.

“Don’t go giving any clues, Evans. But yes.”

“This surprise is in a public space?” Remus asks. Lily can tell he’s about to cave before Sirius answers. She could tell he was going to cave the second the second all of this began, because he always does. Sometimes, she thinks the only reason he objects in the first place is because he enjoys being gently-harassed.

“Yes.”

“Lily,” Remus says, turning towards her. “Do you mind?”

“I suppose not, if it protects your manhood from a pen of nifflers.” Lily says, “Given it's your birthday and all that.”

Sirius laughs.

“Alright,” Remus says, pulling himself upright. “Come here with your blindfold, you absolute lunatics.”

*

Despite herself, Lily audibly gasps when they step over the threshold of the Common Room.

They must’ve either stayed up very late last night, spent all day inside or both, because the place is transformed from last night, and their end game is finally crystal clear, in all its baffling brilliance.

They have constructed an entire crazy-golf course .

It is remarkable .

The windmill is spinning over the second hole. At least two holes go through the sofas. The coffee-table-fountain is merrily sprinkling water over the eighth hole. One hole sports a miniature, roaring lion. The final, thirteenth hole appears to involve hitting the ball into what she thinks is supposed to be a giant, badly-made model of Remus Lupin’s head. Each hole is adjourned with a jaunty flag, of Gryffindor, Wales, the Hogwarts crest and, for reasons unknown, what looks to be a pirate flag.

There are a large number of students present. There’s a lot of chattering that drops to an awed hush when they step into the room, Remus holding onto one of both of their arms (but notably using Sirius to take some of his weight). Sirius guides them to the beginning of the first hole then, with great flair, removes Remus’ magical blindfold.

For a moment, Remus stares, utterly blankly, and then he begins to laugh. A great, deep belly-laugh, that’s so clearly full of joy. Lily is entirely sure that she’s never heard Remus laugh like that, and it’s the sort of sound that makes it incredibly hard not to smile. Not to feel some level of affection for the lot of them.

“You brilliant nutters.” Remus says. “I can’t believe you —-“

Sirius beams, grabs a hold of his robes and makes a big show of kissing him on the forehead. Remus pushes him off, still laughing.

“Anything for our favourite wet blanket.”

“Your club.”” James says, and hands him something that used to be one of Filch’s brooms.

“Your ball.” Peter says, and offers up what definitely used to be an orange.

The first hole is, compared to some of the others, relatively simple: a straight run up a slope of textbooks, then down into the first hole. Everyone watches with baited breath as Remus takes the first shot. After he hits it, the orange squarks a loud “ ouch ” that has everyone laughing. He gets the ball in the hole with his second shot, which promptly sprays a large amount of water in his face.

“Evans,” James says, apparently just noticing her standing alongside them. She doesn’t blame him for largely being focused on Remus’ reaction to after all that work, but there’s something galling about his tone of surprise. It’s the ‘other-human-beings-exist-even-when-I’m-not-looking’ double-take. “Are you making a play to join our merry club? We’d have to vote on it and, I must warn you, our Pete’s scared of gingers.”

“Not likely.”

“Evans is our persuasion technique. You’ll never believe it, Jamesie, but our Remus doesn’t trust us.” Sirius says, now lining up with his own golf club, ready to make his play.

“Scandalous.”

“Yes, a real scandal.” Remus deadpans, pointedly rubbing water out of his eyes.

James passes her a golf club.

The whole thing is distinctly impressive. The magic involved is extraordinary, but she’s probably more impressed by the level of commitment involved. The time spent on it. The fact that they’ve done this for Remus.

James makes a big grand gesture for her to go first.

Lily takes a step forward and takes her shot.

As it turns out, Remus Lupin is not very good at golf.

None of them are, really. It doesn’t help that they’ve managed to make the course incredibly difficult, with a series of hidden enchantments and charms that send their balls backwards, or one which temporarily sticks your feet to the ground, or turns your hair blue (there is, as far as she can work out, no real benefit/disbenefit to this on one’s ability to play golf). They seem to have incorporated a large number of products from Zonko’s, alongside a fair amount of creativity and quality spell work and it is distinctly fun . She genuinely has a great time, laughs, and is in awe of the craftsmanship.

The rest of the Gryffindor’s watch as they progress through them, laughing and chatting animatedly, as Peter scribbles down their scores. The tension racks up as they approach the final hole, like everyone knows something is about to happen. Remus warily eyes the big model of his head, sighs, and hits the ball into his gaping open mouth.

The second it drops into the hole, Remus’s head explodes — the model, not his actual head — there’s a fizz of sparks, a sudden torrent of song which eventually becomes recognizable as a very flat, toneless rendition of Happy Birthday — and , once the smoke clears, it reveals a giant cake. The cake is another rendition of Remus’ face, this one constructed entirely out of icing.

“You are all mad.” Remus says, as the rest of the place erupts into applause. He’s leaning into Sirius’ side again, and Sirius makes a woop and then picks him up like he’s brandishing a trophy, carrying him in a victory lap round the common room before depositing him on one of the remaining sofas that hadn’t been incorporated into the game.

“First go free, then three sickles a game!” James declares, and there’s a big surge forward to start creating a queue. “Best hurry up, Evans, or you’ll be holding everyone up.”

“She’s way ahead of you, James,” Peter, the keeper of the scorecard, points out.

“What?” James asks, and then he takes it out of Peter’s hands. He assesses the card, then looks up at Lily in surprise. Lily huffs, lines up her ball, and finishes the last hole with a hole-in-one. That awful rendition of ‘happy birthday’ starts again. James gapes at her.

“Good game, Potter,” Lily says, primly, hands her golf club to the person first in the queue then wanders over to Remus.

The rest of the idiots are still enjoying the adoration -- dashing about, bowing, loudly hinting at some other ‘special features’ that have yet to be unlocked -- and Lily sits and looks at the side of Remus’ face. He’s a little pink from pleasure and being thrust into the centre of the attention, which Lily has never quite decided if he really does hate or secretly enjoys in the right context.

“That’s quite something,” Lily says, assessing the melee. “Wouldn’t’ve thought a purebloods like them knew anything about crazy golf.”

“They didn’t,” Remus says, still watching them. He still looks very tired, but about as happy as Lily has ever seen him. Quietly pleased. This is the sort of thing that keeps her just shy of thoroughly disliking the loud-lot of them. “None of them did, but —- We did a day at Llandudno last summer --- Sirius and Peter were staying at the Potters for a few weeks, but my Dad said no, so ---- they came to me. Well, most of the way, anyway.”

It’s hard to get Remus to talk about himself. He doesn’t do it freely. Her best strategy has always been to distract him into doing it by accident.

“I bet that was an experience.”

“Oh yes,” Remus says, with a crinkled smile. “Until you’ve seen Peter on the other side of three sticks of candyfloss, Sirius on the dodgems and James --- well, the arcades of Llandudno soon learnt that Quidditch is not the only outlet for his relentless competitiveness. We played a course then, not like this obviously. I told them me and Ma used to play for hours, when I was little. It was our favourite thing to do together. She’s sick, and I—— I wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow.”

“That is really incredibly sweet.”

“Yes,” Remus says.

At that point, Sirius comes bounding over with several slices of cake. One is thrust into Remus’ hands, another is offered her way.

“Evans, I know you’ve always wanted to eat our Lupin’s face.”

“Piss off, Sirius,” Lily says, but accepts the cake anyway. She’s hungry and she’s always liked thick layers of icing.

“What? You’re a woman of great taste,” Sirius says, then slumps onto the arm of the sofa, next to Remus. He knocks into his side, entirely comfortable with taking up his personal space. “Told you you’d enjoy your birthday.” Sirius says, directly to Remus, in a way that Lily feels slightly uncomfortable listening into. It is rare that she associates Sirius with being soft. She doesn’t really know what to do with it.

“You did,” Remus concedes.

“James’ idea.” Sirius says.

“It is probably the nicest thing anyone’s done for me in my life.” Remus says.

“Probably?”

“Alright, definitely, you arrogant prat. Thank you.”

“We had fun.” Sirius says, with one of those big, broad grins that Lily has heard far too much about from both Roisin and Amy. Dazzling, they’d say. It does have quite the effect.

“I can tell.” Remus says, "So that's where you’ve been all day.”

“Of course. You know we wouldn’t abandon you to loneliness and boredom without good reason, Lupin, it’s part of the code.”

“Well,” Remus says, and he shrugs slightly. “It has been an awfully nice day, after weeks of it pissing down, and James has been mighty restless.”

“Never,” Sirius says, “Ye of little faith.”

There’s a moment that hangs between them.

“Go enjoy your glory, then,” Remus says, nodding out at the rest of the room. Sirius hesitates.

“You hanging around, Evans?”

“I don’t need babysitting.” Remus says, before she can answer. “Go, I’ve got cake and a live performance. Far be it from me to prevent the great Sirius Black from enjoying showing off.”

He nods, once, then pushes off the sofa and is enveloped in the rest of the room. He never did actually finish his own game.

They watch for a while: the sixth years laughing as one of the holes has started spouting insults, the second years causing a hold up at the very difficult hole with the net and the charm that increases the size of your golf ball. Once people start to finish, they float back to their side of the room, or join the queue again, wishing Remus a happy birthday and chatting animatedly.

James approaches the two of them next, clutching a golf scorecard and several glasses of pumpkin juice.

“ Evans, you beat me.” He says, awestruck, as he passes Remus a drink.

“I’m a muggle born, James, I’ve played mini golf before.”

“Have you?” He asks, which might be the fourth question he’s ever asked her. Two of which were asking her name. “You really beat me. How did you get two shots on hole ten?”

“You were right there, James,” Remus says, amused.

“Show me how you hold your club.”

“I don’t have one, at the minute.”

“Well, mime it then, what you did.”

“ I don’t think so,”

“ Knew we should’ve set up the big leaderboard, but we ran out of time. See , your head wouldn’t cooperate. Orney buggers, Remus shaped things.”

“Was that once the melon?” Lily asks.

“ Yes, Evans,” James says, appreciatively. “And I only had one, so we couldn’t practice. Tell me about your third shot.” He says, fixing her with a look of sheer intensity, and carries on for quite some time.

Thankfully, James gets dragged off to deal with a technical issue, in that one of the golf balls has turned back into an orange halfway through the passage under the sofa. Cass and Alex have floated over and are quizzing Remus on the history of crazy golf, but Lily watches as James widens the passage to comically large levels and has Peter crawl through it to dislodge the orange.

Peter comes over there way next next, brandishing a plate of snacks he sets in the centre of the table, rattling the box of coins they’re already racked up. Moments later, Sirius is back too.

“What will you use it for?” Cass asks, nodding at the box of money. Lily suspects the whole thing cost a lot of money to put together in the first instance, given all they must’ve bought from Zonkos.

“Half a Marauders fund, half for Remus’ birthday present.” Peter supplies, and shakes it with a grin.

“Well, we look set to make a killing, lads.” Sirius says, plucking Remus’ empty glass out of his hands. “Best get dreaming about what nice, old book you’re going to buy yourself, Lupin. Perhaps a new shapeless beige sweater.”

“Maybe I’ll use it to buy myself some new mates, all of mine are barmy,” Remus says, “Not you, Peter. You can stay, you bought me crisps.”

Peter laughs, and then they get into some debate about what everyone would buy if they had a hundred galleons and it’s easy, pleasant. Lily extracts herself and floats over to what’s become the drinks, snacks and cake table, where Sirius is topping up Remus’ glass.

She approaches on the proviso of replenishing her own pumpkin juice.

“Very impressive magic, Black.” Lily says.

“We do try.”

“It’s awfully convenient Remus was out of the way when you needed to set this all up,” Lily says, as she pours herself a top up.

“What are you suggesting, Evans? That I’d deliberately poison my best mate with a sneak-Pineapple just to celebrate his birthday?”

Lily had been suggesting no such thing, but she probably wouldn’t put it past any of them. She arches an eyebrow at him. Sirius takes on a very steely, grim look and stares her down for what feels like a full minute. The subtext is clear. Drop it, leave it alone, this is none of your business.

“Remind me to steer clear of you in the week before my birthday.” Lily says.

“Absolutely,” Sirius says, with another grin, and then he claps her on the shoulder and disappears into the throng.

It’s then that Amy finds her and drags her into joining the queue, and she loses the rest of the evening to dodging James’ questions about her golf game and enjoying herself quite a lot, actually.

*

It’s when she’s in bed that she can’t stop thinking about it.

It had been quite the operation. It would’ve taken planning. They’d known enough to count on him being gone for nearly twenty four hours.

There are other things, too.

The limp. Remus had spent a fair amount of the game using his golf club as a support. It had been subtle, but he was definitely leaning on it. He’d been injured.

Then there’d been a moment where Remus had made a show of rolling up his sleeves to make a particularly tricky shot and had revealed his bare forearms, where an angry, red cut snuck up his skin. Fresh. It was only visible for a moment, because precisely then James had made some loud, pointed joke and jostled him. In the next moment, his arms were hidden again.

And then there’d been that business of Sirius carrying him around the common room which —- while not totally an unprecedented move from Sirius, who seems to consider boundaries of personal space to be something that don’t apply to him —- had seemed architectured. Purposeful. She hadn’t seen Remus move from that seat after that, and they’d --- they’d bought him things. Cake, pumpkin juice, snacks, company. They’d anticipated it, flexed this whole thing around his needs and it’s —

Wonderful, actually. Incredibly thoughtful. Absolutely one of the kindest gestures she’d ever witnessed.

And yet.

*

The golf course is busy on Sunday. It seems everyone who has friends in other houses has spread the word, so there’s a sudden flurry of non-Gryffindors in the Common Room. First accompanied by others, then by themselves after word of mouth has taken hold. She hears James and Peter debating if they should start charging outsiders more, but they come to the conclusion that they’re already going to make such a killing that it isn’t worth the effort of enforcing the pricing strategy.

It’s morphed slightly. Some of the students have been fixing the odd charm that’s started to wear off, and some have just been adding their own, new features, which means every time Lily sees someone play there’s a new surprise: one hole now spits the ball back out if it doesn’t like you, one sets off fireworks, and the giant now-scalpless model of Remus’ head now swaps between singing happy birthday, burping, and letting out a string of expletives in Remus’ voice.

By the evening, Lily is beginning to grow slightly tired of the noise it creates.

Remus comes to join in her the furthest point of the common room, offering up that the others have just started debating how to dismantle it and he refused to tidy up his own birthday present, and Lily smiles and carries on steadily working through her homework.

And then McGonagall shows up.

“Uh, evening Professor?” James says, head shooting up from where he’d been sat by the fire, opting to draw diagrams about how they might take it all apart rather than actually start doing any work.

“Good evening, Mr Potter.” She says, eyeing the crazy golf course with a wry expression. “This is your work, I am to assume?”

“Really more of a group project, Professor.” Sirius says, scrambling into sitting upright. “Problem?”

“I have heard reports of an unusual number of students from other houses in the Common Room.” McGonagal says. “Care to explain?”

“Well,” James begins.

“Well,” Sirius adds.

“It’s Remus’ birthday, see,” Peter chimes in.

“Precisely,” Sirius says, “And Remus, here,” He begins, then seems to realise he’s not there. His gaze shifts around till he spots him at Lily’s table. He jerks a thumb in his direction. Remus is smirking into his piece of parchment, clearly listening but not engaging. “Remus there, used to play hours of mental muggle golf with his Mum, see, so we thought it might be a bit of fun to --”

“ --- We haven’t broken any rules, Professor.”

“For once, I am inclined to believe that might be true ---” McGonagall says, and Lily thinks she’s trying very hard not to smile. She always did have a soft spot for them. “Nevertheless the disruption ---”

“It’s the weekend! Have a heart, Minnie! Uh, McGonagall.”

“Kingsley assures me you said this would all be cleaned up by Monday morning.”

“Aye aye Professor.”

“Fine,” McGonagall says, assessing the course with more detail.

“In the meantime,” Sirius says, and then he’s standing up and attempting to pass her a golf club. Lily can’t help but find the audacity of it impressive, but they are known for being a particular kind of fearless. Cheeky. Her lips thin. She considers it for a moment, looking at him with a flat, level expression that Lily thinks she’d find quite intimidating. After a few moments, she reaches out and takes it.

“First go’s free, then it’s three sickles a game.” James pipes up, then quickly seems to regret it. “Uh, unless you're our esteemed Head of House.”

“Quite right.” McGonagall says, very primly.

It’s very quiet as McGonagall begins her round. They’d all started to get bored of watching other people play, but it’s different watching the very deliberately neutral expression as she takes it, hole by hole. She expects James is pleased someone disabled the function that spouts water in the participants face. Lily suspects that much of the room is trying very hard not to laugh. It is brilliantly funny, but laughing seems like it might break the spell, so they all watch with baited breath.

Lily is struck on the worlds Sirius had chosen.

Used to play hours of mental muggle golf with his Mum.

It’s interesting that he’d mentioned it. She’d heard much about the genesis of the idea in the common room last night, but Remus is the only one who’d mentioned his Mum, and that was just to her. In his next re-telling, to the group of giggling fourth years, she’d been edited out of the story. Sirius and James had retold their experience in Wales, but they’d never touched upon the sentimentality of it.

Remus is the only person in the Common Room not watching McGonagall play golf. He’s bent over a piece of parchment next to an envelope addressed to Hope Lupin, writing line-after-line in his handsome-script. He’s already had a number of wizarding photos of the golf course developed: one of Remus the moment they took the blindfold off --- Peter must have taken it —- several of him playing, one of Sirius and James hanging off each other’s arms, laughing, one of Peter halfway through the construction process.

The photos --- she’d seen them taking pictures while they were creating it and hadn’t understood why but ---

Every so often, Remus pauses in his writing to pick up one of the photos and smile at them.

“Remus,” Lily says, quietly. Everyone else is engaged in watching McGonagall take on the hole with the lion. “You said your Mum was sick.”

“Mhm,” He hums, finishing his sentence. “Cancer.”

“Oh,” Lily says, her chest twisting, free falling. “Oh Remus, I’m so sorry.”

He’s quiet for another line on his parchment.

“I’d wanted --- I’d wanted to go home for today,” He says, and he finally looks up, but not at Lily. His gaze drifts to McGonagall, to where Sirius is trailing her round the course offering commentary into the silence. The odd ‘good shot, Professor’ and ‘tricky angle, triccckkky angle’. McGonagall seems to be opting to ignore him. “Just in case this is …” He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t need to. Just in case this is the last. “But I’ve already been gone too much. McGonagall said ---- I wouldn’t have been well enough to go anyway, as it turns out. She was right.” Remus says, “Sure it wasn’t much fun for her to say no to me.”

“That’s …,” Lily begins, but she doesn’t know what else to say. She feels horrible. She feels an overwhelming sense of sympathy and guilt. She is also entirely overtaken by how --- thoughtful all of this was. Remus, getting to send photos of himself having fun, laughing, and being looked after, to his Mum. How relieved she’s going to feel when she sees this glimpse into life and knows how loved he is. For a raw second she understands wholly why Remus can never say no to them, why they’re all wrapped up in their own private world, why they give off a very real impression of being unable to see past their own performance.

She’s pulled out of her thoughts by McGonagall approaching the final hole.

They all take in a collective breath as her ball goes rolling into the model Remus’ gaping open mouth, unclear which version they’re going to get. As it turns out, the charm has morphed, and a strange, awful hybrid noise emerges. It takes her a moment to register that it’s burping Happy Birthday.

It is probably better than the string of swearing.

“Well,” Sirius says, with this fake confidence. “What do you think?”

“That is a very impressive piece of magic,” McGonagall says, and then she drops a coin into their money box. “It can stay till the end of the week.”

Once she disappears, the laughter descends. James whoops loudly and does a victory lap of the Common Room. Sirius is howling. Pete is peering into the box, eyes-wide, as he declares she’d given them a whole galleon.

“Reckon that means we’ve been undercharging, mate,” James beams.

Remus chuckles. He looks down at the photos again. The one on top of the pile has the four of them laughing wildly, all of them untidy and untamed and so very, very alive. He picks up his quill, and continues writing his letter.

*

That night, Lily looks at her Remus-parchment again. She, thick with guilt, crosses out the dates she’s written down about visiting his mother.

She doesn’t like where it leaves her at all.

*

“Evans,” James Potter says, the whole bloody group of them sitting down to her right. Lily hasn’t slept well and doesn’t have that patience for it at the moment. Roisin and Amy already wrote her off for the morning for being snappy and she’d been grateful for it, choosing instead to bury herself in her copy of the Prophet and try to defrost.

“Potter.”

“Hogsmede weekend next weekend.”

“Yes.”

“So.” James says, and there’s something off about his voice. It’s slightly higher pitched than normal. Very loud. Behind him, Sirius and Peter are openly watching their conversation. Remus is directing a bemused look at his plate as he fills it with sausages. He’s got more colour than he’d had at the weekend, at least. “Do you fancy it then?”

“Fancy what?”

“Going to Hogsmeade with me.”

Thanks to the absurd volume of James Potter’s voice, there are people looking now. Lily can feel her cheeks heat up. She is not particularly in the mood to be looked at this morning.

“No.” Lily says, bunching her shoulders together and looking back down at the Prophet.

“What?”

“No, thank you.”

“Why?”

“Would it be just you, or would Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee be there too?” Lily says, jerking her head pointedly at Sirius and Peter behind his head. They’re both still openly staring, but so are half the bloody Gryffindor table by now. “I suppose if you bought Remus too, at least there’d be an outside chance of a decent conversation.”

“So you do fancy Remus then, like Sirius always says?”

He gives no indication whatsoever that, if this were true, it might be slightly embarrassing for him to declare it to half the sodding castle.

“No, Potter. We are friends.”

“So why not?”

Lily huffs, continues staring at her Prophet.

“Do you like Quidditch?”

“Yes.”

“I’m on the team this year, you know.”

“I know, Potter. We are in the same house. We are in all the same classes. I know who you are. You may not pay any attention to anyone outside of your little club, but that doesn’t mean everyone else is entirely ignorant.”

“So you wanted me to pay some attention to you then?” James says, tapping his fingers on the table cheerfully. “Brilliant. Meet at nine. I’ll pay lots of attention then.”

“No.”

“Right. Does ten work better? More time for beauty sleep?” Lily aggressively folds up her copy of the Prophet. “Not that you --- I was joking, about the beauty sleep. You’re plenty good looking already. If anything, you should stop sleeping, although -- Merlin, you do look a bit tired at the minute. Something kept you up late last night? Shall I come back later?”

“Please don’t,” Lily almost growls.

“You still haven’t given me a reason, Evans.”

“Is this conversation ,” Lily says, gesturing at the space between them, “Not sufficient?”

“Nope,” James says, cheerfully.

“You are habitually cruel to my best friend.”

James’ expression crinkles in confusion, then it catches.

“Oh, you mean Sniverlus? But he doesn’t count ---”

“You consistently humiliate others, while being utterly ignorant to the fact that you’re doing it.” Lily says, thrusting her folded up Prophet into her bag. “You are self-absorbed, disruptive, loud.” Lily continues, standing up.

“You’re not that quiet yourself, Evans.” James says, colour appearing on his cheeks now.

Lily pulls her bag onto her shoulder. She is being loud, but everyone was already looking, because James Potter has arranged things so everyone is always looking at him.

“You persistently show a lack of interest in everyone else around you, including me, unless they happen to be called Sirius Black --- and you are only asking me out now because I beat you at a game of crazy golf and your precious ego can’t handle the concept of someone being better at you, at anything and I -- Am. Not. Interested.”

She can hear the quiet descend as she storms off.

Of course, Sirius is the one that breaks it.

“Reckon she might have a point, mate,” Sirius says, clapping him on the shoulder, then she hears him stand up. “Never mind, Jamsie, I’ll be your Hogsmeade date.” He carries on. As she rounds the corner to leave the Great Hall, eyes on her, Sirius is pulling James into a clumsy slow dance around the tables and James laughs loudly, calls him something rude and does a little pirouette, and somehow, somehow, Lily is still the one that ends up the most embarrassed by the whole thing.

*

Lily is pretending to herself that she’s doing her Astronomy homework. To an outside observer, her impression might be quite convincing: she is pouring over her old charts, double checking her notes about the arrangement of the stars, quill hovering over the column about the moon.

The problem is, she knows that she already finished it days ago.

She’s distracted somewhat by the golf course now attracting a string of Professors. They’d had Sprout in, earlier, and now Slughorn is chortling over the windmill, trying to invite them to the Slug Club again.

She’d been thrown off by those rogue dates. Dates where her friend had been visiting his incredibly sick mother.

Because she had —-

They’d been assigned a joint assignment last year. Transfiguration. She’d been surprised when Remus had done all of his part exceptionally early, handing her the notes over breakfast before she’d even thought about it. Remus was relatively committed to homework — certainly more than his mates — but not ‘finish it three days early’ committed. He’d looked a bit ropey when he’d given it to her, although he assured her he was fine, and then he hadn’t shown up to Herbology. She’d been idly wondering about it and Sprout had been going on about how this certain plant had to be pruned on the day of a full moon, and Sirius Black had been quiet. Not fallen asleep, quiet, but intently listening quiet. Sprout was carrying on —- the moon has all sorts of effects on plants — and Lily was drawing circles on her parchment, and thinking.

She’d cornered Sirius on her way out and asked where Remus was. We’ve got a joint assignment, Lily said, when he told her it was none of her business. Sirius had been dark and a little angry and said he was ill. No backstory, no humour, just a flat answer and then he’d brushed her off and disappeared.

Lily had watched his retreating back and idly thought about how convenient it was that Remus had finished his part of the project before he’d been taken ill.

Dumbledore has arrived for a round of golf now, twinkling and merry. He and Peter compete against each other and it draws another crowd. James Potter keeps jangling their collection box and laughing. No one can remember the Headmaster ever being in the Common Room before, and there’s lots of excited muttering. Noise.

She isn’t checking the dates. She doesn’t even have her Remus-notes on her. She wouldn’t, it’s just — she happens to remember them, and they happen to jump out at her as she assesses her Astronomy chart.

November has been bothering her. It never fit. She’d mostly written off the thought she’d never fully allowed herself to have when he’d disappeared twice, in short succession, in October, but now —-

The full moon in November was the 10th. She’d noted nothing about that date, but there’s something about it that feels significant.

She’s watching Dumbledore cheerfully complete the eighth hole, seemingly delighted when the flag pole — unimpressed with his shot — calls him a useless old codger, when something slides into her head.

Hogsmeade weekend. She remembered the date going up on the notice boards. It had been the Hogsmeade weekend.

It had been the first they’d ever been allowed to go to. She’d met Severus exceptionally early so they could head out without it being commented on. At one point, she’d seen a glimpse of Potter in the distance, and had pulled Severus off in another direction to avoid a confrontation. She has no idea whether Remus was there. She can’t remember.

“Evans,” James says, dropping into the seat opposite her. He messes up his hair with right hand. “Can’t help but feel this morning didn’t go well.”

“Really,” Lily deadpans. She puts a textbook over her astrology chart, looking up at him with a huff.

“It has been suggested that perhaps —- perhaps it would’ve been better if you were on your own, at the time. Less public. ”

“That would’ve been better.” Lily says, acidly. “You should take Remus’ advice more often.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” James nods, thoughtfully. “So.”

“So?”

“You’re alone now,” James says, this cocky-eagerness slipping into his voice. He leans forward on his elbows. “We never did establish if we’re meeting at nine or ten.”

When she’d walked back into the Common Room earlier and had another rush of realising how really quite lovely it had been for James and the others to put this together, she’d considered finding him at some point this evening to apologise for losing her temper. She had thought that perhaps she’d been unfair, that her preoccupation and concern about Remus Lupin might have bled too much into her behaviour. Her inclination to say anything near to ‘sorry’ is quickly shrinking.

“Potter,” Lily says, frustration bubbling up in her gut. “I will be spending my weekend with my friends.”

“We could be friends,” James says, ruffling up his hair.

“We really couldn’t.”

“Your friends with my friends,” James says, “So we’re practically best mates already.”

“Potter. This is virtually the second actual conversation we’ve ever had.”

“Well. Talk to me now, then.”

“No,” Lily says, beginning to collect her things and shove them into her bag.

“Seems a bit unfair, Evans,” James says, “Rejecting me on the basis that we’ve never had a conversation and then refusing to have a conversation with me.”

“You’ve had plenty of opportunity, before you wanted something out of me,” Lily says, standing up. James is gaping at her, slightly slack-jawed.

“Well you --- you’re always hanging out with Snape or Lynch, when was I supposed to ---? I do know things about you, Evans. That you’re smart, potions-whiz, and you like Remus and --- doing your homework.”

“Right,” Lily says, standing up with as much dignity as she can muster “Goodbye, Potter.”

“Where are you going?”

“The library,” Lily says, “Where I can focus without the noise from you or your infernal golf course.”

James’ expression falters, twists.

“You ought to lighten up, Evans.” James says, his voice getting louder again. People are looking. Lily’s seething as she pulls her bag onto her shoulder and starts towards the portrait hole. “Let me know when you’ve changed your mind about next Saturday, Evans!” James calls after her, booming it over the Common Room. “I’ll keep my schedule clear!”

*

The next evening, she avoids the Common Room all together and takes refuge in the library.

“Hey Lily,” Remus says, sliding into the seat next to her. She looks up, takes in his expression. He’d come to Hogwarts with a few scars, one over his eyebrow, one creeping up his neck, but it’d been nothing that she’d questioned too deeply. She’d noticed them, but they hadn’t formed themself into a big question mark for a long time. He’s gained more since. Slowly, steadily. “Bad day?”

He isn’t carrying his books, so he’s clearly come specifically to find her.

“Yes,” Lily says, with a deep sigh. She subtly obscures the book she’d been reading , smothering the text in empty parchment.

“Sorry about James,” Remus says, his voice quiet. Lily squares her jaw. “He’s lost his head a bit. Think all the excitement of the weekend got to him.”

There’d been another scene after History of Magic. She’d come round the corner with the girls to find Severus and James pointing their wands at each other. Given Sirius was bleeding from the ears, she suspected Severus had started it. Still, Severus hadn’t been the one to say, ‘Only if you go out with me’ when Lily had hissed at them all to stop it.

Things hadn’t gone well from there.

Remus had ultimately dragged Sirius off to the hospital wing by his robes, but he’d been a silent witness before that, quietly projecting that he didn’t want to be put in this position and wasn’t about to put himself out there to stop any of it.

It would’ve been nice to have someone who stuck up for her --- as much as she is entirely capable of doing it herself, thank you--- but she is incredibly aware that James Potter is the one that recently constructed Remus the world’s sweetest birthday present, who knows all Remus’ secrets, who fills his life with easy mischief.

One of the first pieces of information Remus Lupin had offered about himself was ‘ We weren’t sure if I could come to Hogwarts. I was ill.’

Ill . It must’ve all been so incredibly isolating. Terrifying. All of it must’ve been so bloody awful.

He must’ve been so young.

And ----

--- And Remus had wanted to spend his birthday with his sick Mum and couldn’t because he was too ill --- and he was, clearly, anyone could’ve seen it would’ve been insane to attempt any kind of travel -- and those ridiculous boys had found a way to make him laugh anyway.

“No,” She says, and brushes her hair out of her face, turns to look at him. “New deal, Remus. You don’t need to apologise for your friends and I won’t apologise about mine.”

“Deal,” Remus says, proffering a hand. She shakes it.

“So,” Lily says, drawing her shoulders together, “What did your Mum think of the pictures from your birthday? Have you heard from her yet?”

*

Back in the dormitory, alone, Lily writes ‘ Werewolf’ at the bottom of her piece of Remus-parchment.

And then she promptly sets it on fire to ensure that nobody can ever read it.

She allows herself a short window to sympathy-cry for a lovely fourteen year old boy with a sick mother and mental, quite-brilliant friends and then she wipes her face and heads back downstairs, because earlier Marlene McKinnon challenged her to one final game of golf, and rumour has it that it's just started turning the loser, temporarily, into a canary.

Chapter Text

At the end of her second Prefect’s meeting, Lily had approached the Head Girl -- Tabitha Stebbins -- and offered to take over creating the patrolling schedules. It had won her a reproachful look from fellow freshly-instated Prefect Sarah Dawlish, who gave her a dirty stop-showing-us-up-you-suck-up look. She had a lot of reasons for making the offer and none of them were about making a good impression, although it had to be noted that it did. Tabitha had happily relinquished the responsibility and since treated her with a great amount of trust and respect, and Lily had never had to face down another schedule where she had three nights of enforced walking around the castle with the Matilda Jugson, who’d developed a habit of spitting at her in the corridor if no one else was looking. In the beginning, she’d attempted to obscure some of the ulterior motives for her diligence, but now they’ve settled in and she’s sure of Tabitha’s continued trust, she’s decided just to take advantage of the situation.

If she’s going to be spending an hour and a half wandering around the castle in the dark, she might as well do it with someone she actually likes.

“--- and then,” Lily continues, “He just laughs, and tells Crouch that one day I’ll be the Minister of Magic. Honestly.”

“You’d do better than Jenkins,” Remus says, smiling.

“But not Minchim?”

“He’s only had six months, I’m reserving my opinion yet. Although --- no, I think I’m with Sluggers. You can have my vote.”

“I am not going to be a politician,” Lily says, pocketing her hands, “Anyway. There’s no chance. There won’t be a muggleborn in power for at least a decade.”

Remus lets out a huff of air that means he agrees with her assessment but doesn’t want to say so out loud. His gaze catches on big doors out to the grounds and Lily can almost see his thought process. A brief moment of longing, left hand buried in his pocket. Tightening on his pack of cigarettes, she expects. Since the summer, his habit’s kicked into a much higher gear.

“Really?” Lily asks. “In this weather? Well go on then, I’ll wait for you if you’re less than five minutes.”

“No,” Remus says regretfully, looking away from the door. Lily’s grateful. It’s been an incredibly grim day, with the rain lashing down continually enough that the castle never really got warm. She’s been wearing a jumper under her robes and doesn’t much fancy the rush of cold air that would invade when Remus slipped outside. “No, I'll --- it can wait. So, Slughorn.”

“Yes. He is relentless. He’s now talking about the Christmas party, Remus. I’m supposed to bring a guest.”

“Don’t let James hear you talk about that,” Remus says dryly, “Might finally be the thing that gets James through the door of the slug club. Suppose it would save you getting Slughorn a Christmas present this year. ”

“Oh, for goodness sake, isn’t he over it by now?” Lily huffs, impatiently.

Remus smiles slightly.

“I’d say not.”

Lily exhales.

“He’s only interested because he wants to win.”

“I don’t think so.” Remus says. Lily arches up a brow. Remus holds his hands up. “Ah, the --- agreement was ---”

“Yes,” Lily says, “Yes. You’re right. Let’s not talk about James. I just ---- well they’ve been quiet, haven’t they? He hasn’t been at it for ages, I thought he might’ve… . Actually, ---- I feel like I’ve barely seen them at all. What are you all up to? Yes --- I know, Marauder secrets. You’d have to kill me and all that.”

“I can honestly tell you I have no idea.” Remus says, and she pauses. There’s something bitter seeping into his words, which is unusual. For all the legitimate reasons Remus has to be bitter about things, he never normally gives into it. It’s rare for her to see any thorny emotions from him at all. He is remarkably level headed for a fifteen year old boy who has genuine problems.

“Remus,”

“They’re ---- they’ve been strange all year.”

“They’re strange every year.”

“ Stranger,” Remus says, and he’s pulling at his sleeves, staring out into the corridor. Lily pauses, looks at him. “ Whateve r it is, they haven’t deemed it fit to include me.”

“Perhaps they’re trying to respect your status as a Prefect.”

Remus snorts at that, which is reasonable. By her understanding, Sirius had laughed for about thirty minutes and had spent a lot of September calling him ‘ your highness’ while Remus turned a flustered-pink and repeatedly told him to fuck off. Peter had tried to charm the badge (which Remus seemed to continually lose, or hide under his robes as much as possible) to stick to his forehead. James had begun a campaign of coughing the word “Wanker” whenever anyone said the word ‘Prefect’ in conversation (except, of course, in relation to herself), until McGonagall overheard him and made him spend five hours in the kitchens gutting pumpkins. The amusement in Remus’ expression dies quickly.

“Started before the summer.” Remus says, slightly despondent. “So it’s nothing to do with that wonderful gift.”

“Without which you wouldn’t be having a lovely evening stroll with yours truly,” Lily throws back. Remus is slightly too slow to respond. “Try not to be too enthusiastic about it, Lupin, or I’ll stick you with Avery next time.”

“I --- sorry, Lily,” Remus says, “Your schedule takeover is appreciated. Really. I’m just…”

“This is really bothering you?”

“Sirius --- Sirius has a lot going on, I get that. And I think James wants to beat the Slytherin team more than ever after everything that’s been going on, with the attacks. And Pete’s panicking about OWLs and it’s ---- stupid. Compared to everything else. ” Remus says, aggressively tugging at his sleeves, a crease in his brow. “It is stupid.”

Lily stops him walking and forces him to look at her.

“Remus Lupin,” Lily says, firm, “The only thing those three tosspots love as much as you is themselves. If they’re keeping something from you, it’s either some crackpot surprise, or they’re determinedly doing something so mindnumbingly stupid or reckless that they’re saving you the bother of trying to talk them out of it. You’ll thank them for leaving you out of it when they all get themselves expelled.” Lily says, and Remus’ expression wobbles slightly. “Unbelievable. You’d rather go down with the ship.”

“Well,” Remus says, smiling a bit now. “It’d at least be nice to be given the option.”

“You are an idiot,” Lily says, pointedly.

“That’s well documented. Filch has a whole file.”

“I’m giving you a hug,” Lily says, then she tugs him in. He’s stiff for a moment, then he sinks into it slightly. She pulls back and forces him to look her in the eye. “Their primary redeeming feature is how much they care about you. They’re probably --- constructing another golf course. Transfiguring a giant commemorative statue of your left arm out of a fruit basket ---”

She cuts herself off at a sound. A distinctive creek, then a click.

In sync they both turn back towards the corridor they’ve just walked down, and start striding back towards the Entrance Hall, wands held high for light.

“You’re --- probably right,” Remus says, his voice hushed now.

“Generally,” Lily agrees.

“I’ll stop being a miserable git, now.”

“Unneccessary. You’re allowed to be a miserable git as much as you like. Any time.”

“I don’t deserve you, Lily.”

“Definitely not,” Lily agrees with a snort, and elbows him in the side. They reach the big oak doors much quicker than they’d left them. She holds her wand higher and squints into the darkness. There’s no indication that there’s anyone there, but there’s a fresh chill in the air. The wind batters against the door. “Can’t think of anyone who’d want to sneak out in this.” Lily says.

“No sign now,” Remus says, as he squints down the corridor.

“Well.” Lily says, glancing down at her watch, “It’s nearly time anyway. Call it?”

Remus nods, and they start their assent up the stairs. They cover the first flight in companionable silence.

“So,” Remus says, eventually, “You’re expected to bring a guest.”

“Apparently,” Lily says, shoving her left hand in her pocket. “And I think I really ought to. I don’t want Sev to ---- Well.” She trails off, feeling her face heat up slightly. Remus hums like he’s following enough that she doesn’t need to say anything else, which is something she’s always appreciated about him. “Unfortunately, after you remove half the castle who’re disgusted by my blood status, those not intelligent enough to string a sentence together, and everyone scared off by a certain someone attempting to prove a point, my options are slim.”

“He’s not trying to prove a point,” Remus says, but he’s smiling a bit, that my-friends-are-morons-but-I-have-great-affection-for-them-smile. He wears it quite a lot: quietly enjoying their antics from his seat just to the left of the centre of the chaos.

“Well, he can’t still think his strategy is going to work.”

“Might be overestimating him with that ‘ think’ part,” Remus says, still with that smile. “James --- I think you might be the first person who’s ever made him question himself and his own brilliance. That’s quite disorientating for a fifteen year old prat.”

“He likes that I tell him he’s a tosser?”

“Honestly,” Remus says, “I think he finds it deeply impressive and intimidating.”

Lily exhales and rolls her eyes.

“ Boys.” Lily says, in frustration, then catches Remus’ eye. “Not you, you don’t count.”

“Thanks.” Remus deadpans.

“Oh, you know what I mean,” Lily says, “That you seem capable of thinking with your brain, rather than just your other appendages."

There’s a distinct smile playing around his mouth now, like he’s smirking at a private joke. Lily rounds on him expectantly.

“I’m saying nothing.”

“What have you been thinking with your appendages, Remus Lupin?” Lily asks, turning to face him.

And then she hears something, something that might’ve been an intake of breath, or a stifled snort, and whirls around to face it, holding her wandlight aloft. Remus follows her gaze and there’s a flash of something in the gloom of the corridor, but then it’s gone. She’s about to hone in on it, try and focus on what she’s seen, when ---

Remus drops his wand, and the sound in the quiet corridor jumps her attention away. It goes rolling off down the other side of the corridor. A string of sparks comes from the tip. She lifts her own wand high to illuminate the back of the corridor and watches as Remus heads after it, bending down to pick it up.

“Well? Don’t think you’re getting out of it with architectured clumsiness.”

“At this point, it seems prudent not to comment, lest I be thrown in the bucket with the rest of my species.” Remus says, and he’s incredibly slow at walking back to her part of the corridor. “Doomed to receive nothing but reproach from one Lily Evans.”

“That really depends on if you chose to be an idiot about it, and I have marginally more faith in you, Remus.” Lily says. She glances back at that spot in the corridor where she’d spotted something. It edges on an old suspicion she used to have, and ---- she’s sure they had heard the front door, too, and—

They climb another flight of stairs, Lily listening carefully for any further sound. She almost thinks she does, but the castle is never really silent: there’s always portraits and ghosts and the whispered hush of magic baked into the bricks.

“Are you even allowed a girlfriend, or is that against the Marauder code of contact?”

“Well, it would have to go to committee,” Remus says, giving off a good impression of being deep in thought. “A unanimous vote, a six week process of ratification and of course, a nightmare amount of paperwork. I’m not sure it’s worth the effort when I’m already so behind on homework.”

Lily snorts .

“Don’t worry, James has sought pre-approval, just in case you ---”

“--- oh shut it , you prat.”

“You’re the one who started going on about James' appendages.”

“No, shut up. This is how rumours start, and I’m not having it go round the school that I think anything but disgust about such things, less it encourages him further.”

“I think that ship, as they say, has sailed.”

“Can you stop him?”

“Sorry Lily, I’ve pledged allegiance to the Marauder cause,” Remus says, “It’s a cult, really. Sirius Black is the only higher power I believe in. James Potter is the only authority I obey. Peter Pettigrew, my own flesh and blood.”

“You mean you have no influence whatsoever.”

“On this? None.”

“Fantastic,” Lily mutters, and pockets her other hand.

“I don’t encourage him either.” Remus says, voice lower, something adjacent to pleading that doesn’t quite make it. Lily sighs. One of the main reasons she finds James so annoying is that it puts them in this position.

“I know, I —- I’m sorry, we haven’t done a good job of not talking about James tonight. Let’s — let’s focus on finding me a date.” Lily says. Remus huffs a laugh. “What about --- Matthew O’Connor? That Ravenclaw beater. Is he a total twat? You usually have good instincts, except —- well . So, twat?”

“Not that I’ve heard.” Remus says, mildly.

“Gregory Barnes?”

“Ah, he is a twat. Definitely not.”

“Hmm. Stubbins. What’s his first name, again? Theodore?”

“We’re seeking a soul mate, I see,” Remus smirks, “It’s Tristain. And we buy pot for him when Dung is out, so --- it depends on how you feel about your date dealing in illicit substances.”

“Hmm. Seems slightly redundant, I already have Amy for that.”

Remus chuckles.

“Cold, Lily.” Remus says, “I never did understand how a parent christens their children Mundungus and Amy.”

“They don’t. That’s not her real name,” Lily says, “She’s never told us what it is. She wrote to Dumbledore before she started and, in her words, ‘made him see sense’, and made Dung promise to keep his mouth shut. What about --- David Silverston?”

“There’s some fairly graphic graffiti on the third floor that suggests you’re not —- let’s say, his preferred type.”

“You’re taking that as gospel?”

“Not generally,” Remus says, and his mouth is doing something complicated; amused, slightly coy. “On this occasion, I have it on good authority. He might be interested in a decoy, though.”

“Hmm,” Lily says. “Perhaps I’ll ask O’Connor, keep Silverston as a back up. Honestly, Remus, the admin of it all.”

“Lily --- the hopeless romantic,” Remus smirks. “I wouldn’t pin too much hope on the evening. Sirius mentioned something about spiking the punch with Sickening Solution, to pre-emptively get back at his brother for the Christmas holidays.”

“And where are they going to get that? They stopped selling it at Zonkos after that business last year.”

‘They’re brewing it in the bathroom.”

Lily turns to face him, the ridiculous amusement of it all sinking into her.

“You are a horrible Prefect.”

“Write to Dumbledore and tell him, would you? I’d love to get out of it.”

“Absolutely not,” Lily says, “Who else would I get stuck with?”

Remus laughs. They’re practically at the portrait hole now.

Lily thinks of the sounds of the door, that glimpse of something, Remus dropping his wand.

She doesn’t trust him at all.

She fixes him with a look.

“What about Eliza Thompson, for you?”

“Uh —- no, I don’t think so.” Remus says, slightly alarmed at the change of topic. He tugs at the sleeves of his robes again.

“I heard you thought differently at one point last year. Something to do with you walking her back to her dorm after a detention.”

“Shit,” Remus mutters, pinching his brow. Lily’s smile widens.

“She said you were a real gentleman.”

“Oh, good.” Remus says, flatly, looking up towards the sky as if for strength.

“Implied she wouldn’t’ve minded if you’d been less of one actually.”

“Lily.”

“Quite a long treatise about your tongue,” Lily says. He makes a muted, strangled noise. “There’s a lesson here Lupin: Women talk.”

“Is it my turn to say ‘ girls’ and write you all off?”

“Only if I don’t count as a girl for these purposes”

“Think you’re probably the worst of the lot of them.” Remus mutters, bemused and slightly flustered.

“Thank you.” Lily says, primly. “So, you blokes don’t talk about this business?”

“I certainly try to avoid it,” Remus says, grimly.

“Your pals won’t know all about Eliza Thompson then?” Lily asks.

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll hear it somewhere.”

“About exactly what you said after she —- ”

“—- I beg you to stop, Lily.”

“You’re far too much fun to embarrass,” Lily says, and gives the password to the Fat Lady. They both step over into the Common Room. They’re the last ones up. “Well, best get off to bed then.”

“Ah,” Remus says, “Staying up for a fag. James hates it when we smoke in the room.”

“Alright. Goodnight, Remus.”

“Thanks for saving me from Avery,” Remus calls back, slumping onto the seat near the window, making a show of opening it. “Same time next week.”

After she reaches the top of the steps, she ensures she’s out of view, fakes shutting the door to her dormitory and waits. It’s silent for a few moments. Then she hears him stand up again, cross the room, and the portrait hole click open again. There’s quiet for a few more moments.

“ Must you do whatever probably-disastrous thing you’ve been up to on nights I’m supposed to be patrolling? It’d be nice to go one week without making McGonagall thoroughly disappointed in me.”

“Promise you, mate, none of it can be traced back to you.”

“I can’t explain how little that makes me feel better,” Remus says. “I am a horrible prefect.”

“Tosh,” Sirius Black’s voice says, “You’re the finest Prefect to ever Prefect.”

“We’ve got to capitalise on the known entities, Lupin. And who do we know better than you?” James says, “Then again --- Eliza Thompson.”

“I was cornered.”

“Remus Lupin --- you wolf.”

“The phrase is you dog.” Remus says, and his voice sounds muffled. She suspects he’s hiding it in a cushion. “You’re all getting too tall, anyway,” Remus says, “And careless. You’ll have to split up.”

“Never.” Sirius says, dramatically.

“There’s a great big thunderstorm outside, you nutters. What could possibly have ---?”

“Rainstorm,” Sirius corrects. “ No thunder. Absolutely no sodding thunder. ”

“Right, and that matters because?” Remus says, sighs again when none of them answer. His voice is tighter when he carries on. “And where is my thanks for saving you all?”

“You could’ve said O’Connor was bent too.”

“What did you say to Thompson?"

“Good point, Pete,” Sirius says, eagerly, “Very good point. Well?”

“Absolutely not.” Remus mutters. “Absolutely not.”

“And how did you know about Silverston?”

“I hate you all.” Remus says.

Lily decides that’s just long enough for the four of them to become thoroughly settled and secure. She comes down the first few steps, loudly. There’s a sudden scramble. She sees the tail end of it: Peter manages to get entirely under the cloak and Sirius gets halfway under, meaning she can see his right shoulder, torso and both his legs. His headless form goes very still, pulling off a good impression of a toddler convinced that hiding behind their hands is effective. Remus has slumped back down on his seat and is, actually, smoking out of the window as promised. James is blinking owlishly up at her.

Invisibility cloak. Of course the idiots have an invisibility cloak. She can’t believe it took her things long to realise they had a sodding invisibility cloak.

“Evening, Evans.” James says.

“Potter,” Lily says, her voice hot. “If you use that cloak to invade my privacy, or the privacy of any other girl for that matter, I will hex you hard enough you forget your own name. I will personally ensure every single girl’s bathroom in this castle contains such detailed, unfavourable descriptions of every inch of your bodies the none of them will ever go anywhere near you, and then ---- then I will destroy your precious broomstick so thoroughly you’ll be finding splinters in your hair for the rest of your life. Do you understand?”

“Completely.” James says, looking up at her, dumbstruck.

“Black? Pettigrew?”

Sirius untangles himself from the cloak and offers her a sunny smile and thumbs up. Peter elects to stay under it. He’s silent for a moment then squeaks a ‘ yes’.

“Remus,” Lily says, raising an eyebrow at him. “I’d say I expect better from you, but that would be a lie.”

Remus smiles at her, sheepish.

“You did that on purpose.”

“Absolutely,” Lily says, and offers him a wicked grin. “ Try and talk them out of my rounds nights, would you? I won’t turn a blind eye twice.”

“James,” Sirius says, as she stalks back up the stairs. “Your girlfriend is bloody mental.”

Chapter Text

In retrospect, Lily probably blames it all on the jump-scare game that they have entitled ‘boo’.

The primary premise of the game seems to be that you have to try and make the other person jump out of their skin, then say ‘boo’ in a vaguely gloating manner. As far as she’s been able to establish from afar, there are some kind of complex rules, scoring and turn-taking involved, but it all seems to boil down to the element of surprise. She vaguely remembers them getting into a month-long stint of it back in second year, but this time they’re all a lot more adept at magic than they used to be, which makes it entirely more disruptive.

At breakfast one morning, James’ hands are suddenly turned into pineapples, these spikey stubs that he tries to eat his breakfast with while laughing hysterically. In the great hall, some hybrid-cross between a venus fly trap and a venomous tentacular is dropped on Pete’s head from a great height, which would’ve been less chaotic if Peter hadn’t successfully batted it away into a group of second year Hufflepuffs. In potions, Sirius’ doxy wings become a giant tarantula just as he’s about to pick them up, and the deranged idiot decides to try and wear it as a hat to make Sarah Dawlish squirm. In the corridor outside of Transfiguration, James jumps out at Remus from a secret passage in a fluorescent pink wig and women’s dress robes. In the common room, the sofa explodes when Sirius and Peter try to sit on it. At breakfast, Lily knocks her morning coffee all over herself when Peter sits down then immediately inverts and ends up levitating upside down in the air. He barely reacts, but the third years sitting next to him did scream, and they have a lengthy debate about what that means for the scoring.

In some senses, it’s a bit of light relief: the atmosphere in the castle has been fearful and tense since the latest attack in muggle London, and the news that Susan Carter — a Gryffindor Student four years above them who’d graduated a few years back — and her whole family have disappeared. She’s noticed other students watching the four of them closely, seeking out traces of lightness and laughter.

In other, very real senses, Lily would like to get through breakfast without nearly having a heart attack and she really, really wanted to finish that cup of coffee.

*

It’s her ruined, soggy Prophet that has her stalling on the stairs when she sees them. For the briefest moment she wants her chance to have the upper hand —- and maybe, she’d internalised some small change she hadn’t quite put her finger on, or maybe she’s just nosier than she thought — but she pauses, hesitates, takes in their backs: Remus, leaning against the railing, looking out over the grounds; Sirius, partially twisted towards him.

Remus says something she doesn’t hear, then Sirius laughs with his whole body. She sees Remus’ returning smile on his side-profile.

“Ridiculous,” Sirius says, loud enough to carry across to where she’s stood in the doorway to the Owlery. Remus says something which Lily would guess is insulting and rude from his expression, and Sirius ----

Sirius kisses him, one hand fisted in his robes and he drags him in. Remus is laughing enough that Sirius only catches the corner of his mouth, and then Remus rights the angle, yanks him in, tangles a hand up in Sirius’ hair. She thinks they’re still laughing as their noses bump together and ---

--- It is certainly not a first kiss.

There’s too much confidence and security in the way that they slot their mouths together, how they’re curving towards each other with the whole of themselves. Remus tugs at his hair, touches his face with this unexpected intimacy. And then Sirius’ hand drops down from where it’s been tangled in his robes, grabs at his hip for a moment, then down and —-

Lily drops the package she’s holding. It hits the floor with a loud thunk. They jump away from each other, whirling around and ---

“Sorry,” Lily says and then she’s, instinct, turning on the spot and starting back down the stairs.

“Shit.”

“Lily,” Remus says and then, actually calling after her, “Lily.”

They catch up with her on the landing of the next flight of stairs, by which point she’s registered that running away isn't particularly productive. She stalls. Stares at them.

“Hi, Lily,” Remus says, looking distinctly pink. His robes are slightly ruffled. For a second, she is entirely unsure where to look, then she remembers that this is just God-awful-Prefect Remus Lupin, her friend and sometimes confidant. Remus Lupin. Snogging Sirius Black. Remus and Sirius. Then a laugh bubbles out of her throat, entirely unexpectedly. It’s probably wholly inappropriate, but it’s happening anyway.

“Boo,” Lily says, which is also a horrible thing to say.

Remus lets out a sharp breath of air, and gets somewhere near to a smile. Sirius is staring at her, his expression flat and baffled, which is understandable. Despite six years of schooling together, Sirius really doesn’t know her very well. They’ve only really ever interacted as an extension of their friendship with Remus.

“Sorry Lily, the rules clearly state it’s got to be the first thing you say.” Remus says, slightly weakly, “So…”

“The Owlery. Really?” Lily asks. “It wreaks in here.”

Remus huffs somewhere between a laugh and an exhale of relief. He takes a step back, leans against the wall. It had been a full moon three days ago, and he’d spent much of the days since leaning on things.

“Well, the Astronomy tower is such a cliche.”

That properly gets her, and she’s laughing again, looking between the two of them.

“Right.” Sirius says, stiff. ‘Well.”

“It’s fine, Pads,” Remus says, touching his arm. It’s the sort of thing he’d do all the time anyway --- Lily thinks, at any given time, any one of them is physically in contact with, on average, 1.7 other Marauders -- but the second he’s reached out and touched him it feels like all three of them are hideously aware of it, like some destructive drunk-Uncle at a wedding that everyone pretends they’re not looking at. Lily bites her lip and tries very hard to appear normal. Sirius goes very still. Remus doesn’t drop his hand, but he looks a lot like he’s wishing he could without making it worse.

“No one knows, so…” Sirius says, his voice awkward and haughty.

“Lily’s good with secrets.” Remus says, his voice low.

That brings her slightly back to herself, past her own shock and into real life. Remus has always been private about his feelings. Sirius never seemed like he cared who knew anything about what he did, in broom cupboards or at Common Room parties, but she never got the impression that he took any of it seriously and --- this is different. She doesn’t have enough information or context to know what, exactly, it is, but ----

“None of my business,” Lily says, holding her hands up, “Please don’t let me —- make anything complicated for you. Really.”

Sirius looks at her for a long moment like he’s trying to x-ray her.

“You dropped this.” Sirius says, curtly, holding out the package.

“I really didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“I know,” Remus says.

They stare at each other for a few moments. She is really not sure what to say.

“I do need to post this.” Lily says, gesturing at the package. “For my Mum. It’s her birthday tomorrow.”

“You can use my owl,” Sirius says, “Faster than any of the school ones.”

“Thanks, Black. Sirius.” Lily says, and then they all stare at each other for a few moments again, none of them moving and — bugger this —- she starts up the stairs again, the two of them following in her wake. “So.” Lily says, awkwardly, side-eyeing Remus. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

Remus still looks embarrassed.

“Quite new.” Remus says, faintly.

“Depends on how you measure it.” Sirius bats back.

“Thanks for that.” Remus says, flat, but smiling a bit more.

Some of her thoughts are taking root now. Settling. They’ve always had that absurd closeness, same as the rest of them, but —— she’s never seen Sirius become low and soft with anyone else, be attuned to anyone’s needs, or pay so much attention. She’d ascribed it to a fierce werewolf-based overprotective instinct, which maybe it is, but —-

They touch a lot. Sirius does that with everyone, but Remus doesn’t. Not in the same way. He’ll clap them on the shoulder and shove them playfully, and succumb to one of James’s arms thrown over him, but he doesn’t linger.

Except —- except for Sirius.

At some point last year, there’d been an argument. It had been the subject of a lot of hushed-whispers and discussion, because they’d never had an argument before. Remus would not discuss it. He said exceptionally little at all really, offered up responses only when asked direct questions, but he was so determined about not speaking about Sirius that Lily never tried after that first day. She just made space for him to hide himself amongst her friends. They followed her lead, enveloping him into their routine without comment. Of course, that also meant they gained either Peter-or-James each day. They seemed to have come up with some kind of rotation system, which had surprised her: she’d assumed James’ loyalty would always follow Sirius, and Peter would always follow James. She was glad she was proven incorrect in theory, if not necessarily in practice. She’d fought back her desire to complain about James’s presence and accepted it for Remus’ sake and he’d —- he’d surprised her. James had been more serious than she’d ever seen him, more muted, more humble. He’d still made jokes, but they’d been softer ones, and —- while it was clear a large part of his attention was on Remus Lupin — he seemed to have built actual points of connection with the rest of her friends. He was trying very hard to look after him. Perhaps, she thought, she’d been unkind to assume that James didn’t have the capacity to see beyond Sirius Black. He really did try, but the first time James tried to throw an arm around his shoulders, Remus shrugged him off, shrunk into himself. He remained muted and quiet. He’d submit to it when Lily forced the odd hug on him, but he seemed to have instituted this bubble of space around himself that he wouldn’t let anyone through. Peter was inherently less physical anyway and Lily didn’t really see him try in that way. Peter had generally seemed less sure about how to navigate all of it, and had spent the first few days trying entirely too-hard. But then he’d formed a surprisingly quick bond with Roisin and Amy, and in part seemed to forget they were supposed to be trying to draw him out, which Lily thought was for the best really. Surround him with normal-chatter until he was ready to emerge, but… it was strange to see him exist as a physical island, creating this wall around himself, all of that understated humour extinguished, looking entirely not-at-all like himself.

And one day something had shifted again.

Sirius had approached them at the breakfast table, where Remus was sandwiched between her and Amy. Sirius had looked as awful as he had done since whatever-it-was that had happened, dark bags beneath his eyes, shoulders hunched. He’d been wearing it as cutting low-level rage — almost everyone had been avoiding him, except whichever of James or Peter were on rotation, because he was so utterly unpleasant to be around — but that morning it had softened into diffidence. Defeat.

He’d only said one-word. A cracked ‘please’.

Remus looked up at him. His eyes flickered. He was quiet for a moment. Then he’d offered a minute nod, stood up and followed him out of the Great Hall. James and Peter had proceeded to eat breakfast with Lily and her friends, acting like nothing was out of the ordinary.

And then the Marauders were back.

Two nights later, she’d seen them sitting by the fire in the Common Room. James and Peter were playing chess. Remus was watching from the armchair and Sirius was sitting on the arm of the chair, holding himself awkwardly, in such a way that they didn’t touch. There was some exchanging of words that, from a distance, looked like the normal quips and barbs, and then Remus had grabbed a handful of robes and yanked him nearer. Sirius had half fallen into the space between the arm of the chair and Remus’s body with an undignified yelp that Lily had heard, and Remus smirked at him, then Sirius grinned and ruffled his hair. Remus had folded into his body for a moment. Sirius had hugged him in a way that looked aggressively tight, and after he’d pulled away Remus had smiled for the first time in weeks.

And, come to think of it, she hadn’t heard anything about Sirius Black and any broom cupboards since then.

Sirius never really, actually dated anyone. Lily had always assumed he didn’t have the attention span for it, but there’d been that six months last year where it seemed like he was burning through the female population as some kind of social experiment. Lily was glad that only Amy from her dorm had fallen foul of it, given she tended to have a thicker-skin round her heart and was content to retell the experience --- in detail -- and laughed it off when nothing further came of it.

Lily can’t remember Remus ever offering an opinion on it, which is strange in retrospect. She’d have expected some of the usual gentle-mocking, because they all made fun of each other for everything. She can’t remember him being upset, but he had been very aware of it. He’d come to sit with her unexpectedly a few more times and become very still and focused on his homework. Once, she’d seen him entirely lose his temper over not being able to master a spell, seemingly out of nowhere, and then he’d offered her a curt apology and muttered something about needing a cigarette and disappeared. There’s been enough going on that she hadn’t really taken much note of it, but now she’s thinking about it ---

Remus and Sirius.

“Can’t believe I didn’t see it,” Lily says, as they reach the top and Sirius starts coaxing his owl down. They’re both leaning against the bars, watching Sirius, but Lily has an eye on the side of his face. “It’s obvious, isn’t it. I’m an imbecile.”

Remus’ mouth quirks up at that, something a little pleased, a little unsure and a little embarrassed. He’s seemed exceptionally happy lately. She remembered noticing that, because it was such a stark contrast to how the rest of the castle has been feeling. The rest of them always wore their happiness loudly, but Remus tended to wear it as quiet self-assurance. She’d noted that he’d seemed more comfortable taking up space, being dragged into the centre of attention.

“You should’ve slapped me, of course.” Lily says, still watching the side of his face. Remus has always lit up around all of them, but he has a particular Sirius smile. It’s somewhere between adoration, pride and amusement. He’s displaying a muted version of it now, like he’s trying to dampen it down.

“Alright, Evans, we get it, our Moony’s obvious about his feelings.” Sirius says.

“Who said I meant him?” Lily asks, with an arched brow. Sirius slams his mouth shut and stares over her shoulder a moment. “How is the wizarding world with —- all this?” Lily asks, more to Remus. She has run into some opinions about it before, but she’s never certain whether Hogwarts is a representative microcosm of the wider wizarding world.

“About the same as the muggles. Maybe a little better,” Remus says, watching as Sirius’s owl squarks his displeasure at being disturbed. “Unless you’re a pureblood.”

Lily nods.

“And you —?”

“Of course I don’t care,” Lily says, folding her arms. “Anything that makes you happy.” Remus looks like he might be halfway towards offering a thank you. “No, I won’t have any of that. I don’t want a pat on the back for being halfway decent. I’ve never understood —- any of that hateful rubbish.” Remus smiles at that, a lovely warm thing, but is saved replying by Sirius proffering his owl. They’re all quiet for a few moments as Lily gives him the instructions, ties her package round its legs and watches as it disappears into the night. She turns back to look at both of them. “I would recommend more private areas of and castle, if you’re aiming to keep this a secret.”

“Who sends a letter at half nine at night?” Sirius asks.

“People who’d forgotten their Mum’s birthday?”

“Think we might’ve been focusing on certain other inhabitants of the castle a bit much.” Remus says, his gaze set on the side of Sirius’ face. Sirius makes a grunt of acknowledgement. “Well. Shall we?” Remus says, nodding to the door.

Lily doesn’t ask her next question until they’re halfway down the first flight. Other inhabitants of the castle. Nobody knows.

“You’re keeping this a secret from James?”

“For now.” Remus says.

“If you’re concerned about his opinion about —-” Lily begins, feeling herself get a little haughty.

“Ha, James isn’t homophobic. He’s known about Moony’s carrying ons for years.”

“His what?” Lily asks, gaze snapping back to Remus.

“Must we?” Remus asks, looking like he can’t decide whether or not to laugh.

“Well, you’re out now Moony, congratulations.” Sirius says, with a brief grin sent his way. Remus looks bemused as she shakes his head, then meets her eyes again.

“You’ve really been holding out on me.” Lily accuses.

“I —- yes.” Remus says.

“Remus and his secrets.” Sirius says, sounding deeply amused. “Don’t worry Evans, we have to pry them out of his hands too. I’m just grateful to finally be on the other side of it. Much more fun.”

“Not because of you, Lily, I knew you’d be —- lovely.” Remus says, his hands are shoved in his pockets. “I just…”

“Couldn’t possibly ruin your respectable Prefect persona with a bit of hedonism.”

“Piss off,” Remus says, reaching out to flick him on the arm.

“Well, you’re out too.” Lily says, narrowing her eyes on Sirius.

“To you.” Sirius says, in a way that implies she’s slightly irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. She’s supposed in the big context of Sirius’ life that is true. “Anyway, it doesn't matter to me anymore. They can’t disown me twice.”

She’d heard about that, in the way everyone had heard about it. She doesn’t really know what to say about it. It sticks in her throat.

“It's just,” Remus says, dragging them out of the conversational dead end. “That I can really live without the attention,” Remus says, and Lily can really really understand that. Especially for Remus, who’s always had a mixed-relationship with attention for good reasons.

“Well,” Lily says, and looks between them, “How long?”

“How does one measure a piece of string, Evans?”

“She’s not asking for poetry, you pretentious prat, just how long we’ve been skulking around corridors. A month or so.”

“Six weeks.” Sirius corrects, then pauses at a tapastey. “Buttered Banshees. Short cut.” He supplies, as the tapestry falls away to reveal a short, badly lit passage. Sirius pauses to help Remus make the awkwardly big step. Lily jumps in after them. It’s only six feet long, but it spits them out in a quiet alcove just off the Gryffindor Landing.

“One day,” Lily says, ‘You’re going to have to teach me all of these. It’d save me a lot of time.”

“Deal,” Remus says.

“Well,” Sirius says, “I’ll make myself scarce at this point. Give you a nice chance to talk about me.”

“Padfoot ---”

“Goodnight, Remus,” Sirius says, doing a quick sweep of the corridor around them and then, completely unabashed, leans forward and kisses him. It is quite a lengthy kiss that Lily hurriedly looks away from. “Evans.” Sirius says, cheerfully, as he pulls away and offers her a salute.

“Curfew in twenty minutes, Black.” Lily calls after his back.

Sirius turns around, mid walk, to flip her the middle finger, then heads down the stairs.

“Appologies,” Remus says, and he looks so --- serious about his apology, slightly flustered, embarrassed and exceptionally pleased under all of it. She’s relatively confident that she’s never seen Remus look so unraveled. Lily starts giggling again.

Remus and Sirius.

“You’re completely gone on him, aren’t you?”

Remus slams his jaw shut and looks like he’s considering not answering.

“For years.” He offers, eventually.

“Well that’s lovely news,” Lily beams, throwing an arm over his shoulder and squeezing him for a moment. “I’ve never seen you like that.”

A pinkness has started crawling up the back of his neck. He tugs at the sleeves of his robes.

“I’m sorry, this is —- none of my business. I’ll shut up.”

“It’s fine,” Remus says, looking up to meet her eye. “I’m ---- happy for it to be your business. Broadly.”

“So it's going well?”

“Me and Sirius?”

“Yes, you and Sirius.”

“No complaints,” Remus says, bundling his fist in the pocket of his robes. Lily arches an eyebrow at him.

“Hopeless,” she says, as they walk back to the Fat Lady. “Boys. The lot of you are hopeless.”

*

Somehow, in virtue of knowing about their newly-established-secret-relationship, she seems to have inherited Sirius Black.

On Monday, Sirius shows up to join them patrolling and, for some reason, Lily actually lets him despite the fact that it’s definitely not allowed and she’s never really made her mind up about whether she even actually likes Sirius. It’s entirely for Remus’ benefit, but she regrets her decision after she does her usual of waiting five minutes for Remus (and this time Sirius too) to have a cigarette mid-patrol, and ends up standing near the door waiting for them for ages. They finally show back up entirely ruffled and then Sirius brazenly, boldly kisses him goodbye by the doorway then cheerfully heads off in the opposite direction, despite the fact that it’s laughably beyond curfew.

“Sorry,” Remus mutters, pocketing his hands and looking entirely sheepish. “His cover for James that he was going to break into Slughorn’s stores for some supplies.” Remus speeds up as he sees Lily expression at that. Getting faster and lower and slightly more embarrassed. “He’s ---- the stupid ‘boo’ game has James paranoid, so we haven’t --- we haven’t seen each other very much. You’re ---- Sorry, Lily, I know this is --- beyond the pale, but. You’re --- you’re a helpful cover.”

“Don’t you have an invisibility cloak?” Lily asks, pointedly.

“It’s --- not as useful as you’d think. And it actually belongs to James.” Remus says, “Lily ---”

“Why are you sneaking around?”

Remus’ jaw sticks shut for a few moments.

“Remus,” Lily says, “You said they aren’t---”

“They aren’t,” Remus says, a little harsh. “But it’s one thing me having some --- stupid, meaningless thing with Silverson, and another when it’s Sirius Black.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Lily,” Remus says, pained.

“Remus. I can only help if I know why I’m doing it.”

Remus exhales. Nods.

“I thought it would ruin everything. How I felt.” Remus says, deliberately not meeting her eyes. It’s probably one of the most vulnerable things she’s ever heard him say. If ever Lily’s said something derisive about their dynamic -- any suggestion that Remus and Peter will just go alone with whatever James and Sirius want -- Remus has always packaged it off with a light joke. He’s never offered up any actual insecurity about it.

“About Sirius?”

“Yeah,” Remus breathes, and he’s tugging at the sleeves of his robes. “And they, the Marauders—-they’re ridiculous, brilliant, totally barmy.”

“They love you.” Lily says. Remus nods, his throat bobbing.

“Four sides of a square,” Remus says, which is absolutely never how she’s seen it, but she has learnt over the years that there’s plenty she doesn’t understand about how their friendship works. “And that’s good, great, until you —- complicate it.”

“I don’t think,” Lily begins, then pauses again. “They love you. They want you to be happy. From what I’ve —- glimpsed. It seems like this makes you happy. Both of you.”

“Perfectly true,” Remus says, and then he smiles, bitterly, with his teeth.“But I’m greedy. We share everything. But… I’ve wanted him for myself for years and —- that hasn’t been much fun.”

“No, I suppose it wouldn’t.”

“So —- just for a little while, I would like our relationship to have nothing to do with James Potter and Peter Pettigrew.”

“I can understand that.”

“It's new.” Remus says, “And it feels --- it feels like —--- if they could see it they’d have the power to shape it. And,” Remus says, putting on some practiced humour she doesn’t believe, “If he gets bored of me, at least my humiliation is a private one.”

“I don’t think,” Lily begins, but she doesn’t really have any basis for her counter-argument: she barely knows Sirius at all. It doesn’t look like that’s likely, but she doesn’t know. All she really knows is that if he did that to Remus Lupin she’d have to hex him into next week. Instead, she pulls him into a tight hug and offers him what she hopes is a reassuring smile. “Fine,” she says, “But if he gets caught rummaging through Slughorn’s cupboards, I’m not covering for him.”

“More than fair,” Remus nods. “We should --- patrol.”

“Yes,” Lily says.

“Just --- in the other direction."

“Horrible Prefect. Really, really, awful.” Lily says, crossing her arms and allowing herself to be dragged upstairs, despite her better judgement.

*

Two days later, Sirius shows up and deposits himself opposite where Lily and Remus are sitting in the library. He doesn’t have any books with him, but he causes a lot less disruption than she’d have expected. He even chips in with a number of answers to the Transfiguration paper she’s trying to complete, lazily half-reading their homework from the other side of the table.

“You might do your own homework, you know.” Remus says, eyeing him over the top of his parchment.

“And deprive Minnie of our traditional weekly detention?” Sirius throws back, and kicks him under the table.

“There’s other things you could do with that time.”

“There’s other things I can do with this time.”

“Yes, but if you’re sitting here watching us do the homework, you might as well actually put quill to parchment. Knowing you, it’d probably only take you twenty minutes.”

“Perhaps I’m enjoying the view.” Sirius says, which has Remus exhaling and looking back down at his parchment. Lily doesn’t look up, but she highly suspects he’s blushing. “You’ve misspelt erroneously. Anyway, I don’t have any parchment.”

“Here,” Lily says, and thrusts some in his direction.

“Thank you, Evans.” Sirius says. “But without a —-”

Remus pushes a quill in his direction. Sirius sighs dramatically and starts to write.

“So this is what you do? Study?” Sirius asks, after a solid five minutes of quill scratching. When Lily looks up at his parchment, he’s filled six inches with cursive, and looks to be a fair way through it. He has always been infuriatingly smart.

“This is what most people do,” Remus says, “We can’t all have your flagrant disregard for homework, or the brains to get away with it.”

“Or my charm and beauty.”

“Prat,” Remus says, but she can hear in his voice that he’s smiling. “That’s not how you spell flamboyant and —- really?”

“That’s how I’d describe the required wand movement,” Sirius says, “Don’t trick me into your homework club and then criticize my efforts, Remus. Not very hospitable.”

“The flirting? Not helping me concentrate.”

“Apologies, Evans,” Sirius drawls.

Lily looks up and assesses him. He’s now leaning back on two legs of his chair, looking up at the ceiling, parchment abandoned.

“Why are you here?” Lily asks.

Sirius slams his chair back into four legs. He knocks into the table, sending her inkwell wobbling.

“Because,” Sirius says, and he checks his watch. “In twenty minutes, James is going to be off Captaining and Pete is off to detention for transfiguring Mulciber’s owl into a cactus. And then I’m going to whisk Remus here off to the empty dormitory to ravish him.”

Remus makes a noise that might best be described as a ‘splutter’.

“Didn’t you transfigure Mulciber's owl into a cactus?” Lily asks.

“Yes,” Sirius says, with a wolfish grin, “Pete owed me.”

“He owed you.”

“Took the fall for his botched attempt at breaking into Filch’s office —-”

“—- which you dared him to do,” Remus adds in.

“Was going to cash it in for a fire whisky run and a head start at ‘boo’, which I have sacrificially given up to secure alone time. Romance.”

“That almost makes sense,” Lily says, smirking at him. “Didn’t realise you traded off detentions.”

“Hmmm. McGonagall doesn’t tend to care who gets the punishment as long as someone bleeds. Reckon she thinks it all averages out in the end. Plus, she thinks it’s chivalrous when I throw myself on my sword when Remus --- isn’t well.”

“That, or she thinks it probably wasn’t his fault in the first place.”

Sirius laughs loud enough to draw attention their way.

“Oh, Evans, the way this man has pulled the wool over your eyes,” Sirius says, then he picks up his parchment and carries on writing. “Diabolical liar. Good job I like it.”

“Sirius,” Remus says, pointedly. Lily is trying to read over her answers again, but she can feel them looking at each other and, God, kicking each other under the table. Unbelievable. She bites the side of her cheeks to stop herself from openly laughing at them.

“Remus.”

“I’m studying.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

“You’re stopping me,” Lily says, in a quiet huff. Neither of them acknowledge her.

“Fifteen minutes,” Sirius says, assessing his watch.

They’re quiet for a few moments.

“Bugger it,” Remus says, flicking his textbook shut. “Come on, then.”

“But Moony,” Sirius says, and he actually, genuinely, bats his eyelashes at him. “I need to finish my homework.”

“Fuck. That.” Remus says, and then he’s shoving his books in his bag, and Sirius is laughing. Remus drags him into standing by the back of his robes, then seems to remember she exists. “Sorry, Lily, I ---”

“--- Please, please go.”

“Yes, sorry Evans,” Sirius says, entirely unapologetically.

“I’ll ---” Remus begins.

“You’re both a total pain. Leave me alone,” Lily says. Remus bites his lip, but nods. “Have fun.” She calls after the sound of their retreating footsteps.

*

On Friday night, Lily secures her favourite armchair in the common room: it’s the perfect balance of being close to the fire but off to the side, nestled just-so in amongst the strewn of sofas to offer some privacy. It's the best kind of squashy, that partially swallows you up when you’ve sat down. It’s been a very long week. For once, all her friends are occupied elsewhere. She’s free from Perfect duty for the next four days and she is fully intending to ignore all her homework until at least tomorrow. On her way upstairs, she acquired herself a very large mug of cocoa she’s charmed to stay at just the right temperature. Shortly after she’d arrived, her cat - Wilberforth - had crawled into her lap. She has a book in her hands that she's been longing to read since her Mum posted it to her last week and she’s completely set for a lovely, ideal evening of ignoring everybody.

“Lily,” Remus says, “Can we sit with you?”

He’s got Sirius in toe, both of them eyeing up the small two-seater next to hers.

Lily sighs.

“Remus. I —- really want to read this book.”

“We’ll be quiet.” Sirius says.

“That’s not really something I associate with you, Sirius.”

“I can be quiet, if adequately motivated.”

“We won’t disturb you,” Remus says, quietly, “It’d just be —— helpful if it looked like we weren’t on our own.”

“To who? Isn’t Potter in detention? And I saw Peter go upstairs to sleep off that herbology incident.”

“The walls have eyes, Evans.”

“I know it —- sounds mental,” Remus says, with a bit of a shrewd smile, “But if we just —- happen to be sitting near you it’d really —- it would really help.”

She really wants to say no. She wants to tell them both to go find someone else to cover for them. She wants to tell them both they’re entirely ridiculous, but --- but Remus looks a mixture between sheepish and hopeful, and the idiots are both looking expectantly at her and --

“Fine,” Lily says. “But —-”

“Yes. Quiet,” Sirius says with a mock bow, then he deposits himself on the furthest end of the sofa to her.

“We’re greatly indebted to you,” Remus says.

“When haven’t you been?” Lily snorts, and picks up her book.

To her great surprise, they are actually quiet.

She falls deep enough into her book that the world falls away. It’s one of those brilliant all-consuming ones that pushes everything else out of her head, exactly as she’d been hoping, and she’s completely lost in it for a long time. It’s only when there’s a particularly loud yelp from one of the third years that she looks up.

She glances over at them. Sirius has his arm thrown over the back of the sofa much like he normally would, but with her new knowledge it seems more intimate. Or maybe it's the way they’ve twisted to look at each other, caught up in a low, private conversation she can’t hear. She’s used to Sirius performing, loud and chaotic, and it’s strange to see him —- still. Focused.

She smiles to herself as she looks back at her book, turning the page.

The next time she looks up, they’re the only ones left in the Common Room.

They’ve migrated. They’re almost entirely horizontal across the sofa , except Remus is entirely too long to fit. His knees are bent into a steeple, effectively boxing Sirius in, so that he’s wedged against the back of the sofa and the line of Remus’ chest. He seems entirely content with that fact. Their arms aren’t round each other, but they’re close enough to kiss. Lily suspects they might’ve been, in moments where they were sure she was too absorbed in her book. They’re ridiculously entangled. They look incredibly sweet, which is not a word she’d ever thought she’d associate with Sirius Black

She should go to bed soon, but the sofa is still so comfortable, Wilberforth is still happily purring and it really is a very good book. She finishes off the rest of her cocoa and wedges the mug by her side. She turns the next page.

When she looks up again, Sirius has fallen asleep on Remus’ shoulder. Remus is watching him, this exceptionally fond expression on his face.

“I don’t think he’s going to be getting bored of you.” Lily says, shutting her book. Remus looks up, pinkness creeping up the side of his neck. “Didn’t know it was physically possible for him to be so —- well behaved.”

“Good book?” Remus asks, side-stepping her comment entirely.

“Very, I should finish it tomorrow. Get some sleep,” Lily says. Her cat gives her an irritated look as she shifts, stands up. “Unless that’s going to cause you some unknown disaster when Potter comes back from detention.”

“No,” Remus says, “No, James will well believe he fell asleep and trapped me. You’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty. Thanks, Lily. You’re an exceptionally good friend.”

“Don’t you forget it, Lupin,” Lily says, as she stretches her back. “It wasn’t so bad. He looks almost —— innocent, like that.”

“Mhm. Incredible what illusions sleeping can offer.”

“I’d say he’s quite smitten.”

“Goodnight, Lily.” Remus says, pointedly.

Lily quietly chuckles and heads for the stairs.

*

On Tuesday Sirius shows up for patrol again, and Lily lets him again.

She’s blaming the fact that there’s something sort of lovely and pure about how desperate they are to spend time with each other without pretending --- not that either of them have or would acknowledge this --- and that she is, apparently a sap, with a soft spot for watching her friends be mushy.

Plus, it’s slightly fascinating. She’s been much closer to Remus ever since they’d been Prefects together, and more so since everything fell apart with Snape. She’s always been aware that she’s gotten a very specific side of him, though. For a while, she’d thought that her version of Remus was the real one and that he’d adapted himself to fit in with the others, but for a long time she’s suspected she’d gotten in slightly backwards. Or perhaps, that they’re both different shades of him, equally real. She’s been enjoying seeing him in this other environment, relaxed in a different way.

Even if it means getting dragged into a lengthy conversation about ‘boo’.

“What if,” Sirius says, as they walk past the charms corridor, “I polyjuiced into Evans, then jumped at him in bed and told him he did have a shot. Then yelled ‘boo’.”

“You’re not bringing me into this.” Lily says, flat.

“Would definitely make him scream, though,” Sirius says, grinning at her.

“It’d take you months, and I’m fed up with the bathroom being used for brewing.” Remus says, “Please tell me we won’t still be at this in months?”

“Not enjoying it, Remus?” Lily asks, archly.

“Peter turned my shower into snow this morning,” Remus says, “A man should be allowed to shower in peace.”

“Funny though,” Sirius grins. “Big point scorer. Never heard our Moony make that noise before. Pete’s got a particular way with it. Sneaky sod.”

“Why is this happening?” Lily asks, hovering somewhere around amusement.

“No idea. James started it,” Sirius says, “And he’s beating me. What if I made his bed eat him?”

“Might work,” Remus agrees, thoughtfully.

“Or --- if it vanished.”

“Too similar to the thing with his underwear.”

“What? No —- I don’t want to know.” Lily says, and then, curious. “How would you make his bed eat him?”

“Well,” Sirius says, deep in thought, “Obviously, I wouldn’t want it to actually eat him. Who else would break into Slytherin’s dorms and put Doxies under their bed with me?”

“Don’t look at me,” Remus says, primly, “I’m a Perfect.”

Sirius laughs.

“Some sort of charm should do it,” Sirius says, “You could --- Incipiam monstrum.”

“You’d have to combine it with some kind of trigger spell, or it’d eat itself before James was anywhere near it.”

“Hmm. I’m rubbish at delayed magic.”

“That’s because you can’t tolerate delayed gratification.”

“Well.” Sirius says, with a wolfish grin. Remus elbows him in the side. “Perhaps I’ll go purist and just vanish his clothes in the Great Hall. Maybe Evans will like it.”

“No, she will not.” Lily says, and folds her arms. “You’re thinking about this wrong, anyway.”

“Oh?” Sirius asks, assessing her with a raised brow.

“You’ve been at it for weeks. You’re all expecting it, now. So you have to think about…. What is most likely to have Potter unable to think rationally.”

“That’s why I thought of you, Evans.”

‘Right,” Lily says, “Except, I happen to have a number of things over you, and have been consistently doing you favours, Black, so you might want to reconsider your position.”

“Fair enough,” Sirius says. “So?”

“What does the git spend hours polishing in the Common Room every other day?”

“His broom.” Sirius says, eyeing her with a great deal of respect and one of those grins that she’s heard Amy and Roisin describe in painful, excruciating detail. Mischief does suit him. He is, obviously, ridiculously handsome, but Lily thinks the laughter and the amusement does a lot of the work. “Oh, Evans, you’re --- diabolical.”

“Have it melt in his hands. Shatter. Turn it into a snake.”

“Why, Evans, it almost sounds like you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Well,” Lily says, pointedly. “I will say that I’d appreciate it if you did it while I was watching. A thank you present, perhaps, for what a good job I’m doing being your decoy.”

“Wonderful,” Sirius growls.

“Careful,” Remus says, mildly, “Keep on like this, I might be tricked into thinking you two actually like each other.”

*

The next night, she’s wedged on the other end of the sofa with Roisin and Jane when she hears an almighty yelp. She looks over to discover James holding wood shavings, desperately trying to keep them from falling through his fingers. As she watches, Sirius looms forward with his actual broom in hand, and delivers a jubilant ‘boo.’ James takes off after him, and they complete two loops round the Common Room before Pete sends a tripping jinx at them both. Sirius climbs off the floor first, then he comes over and presses a dramatic, wet kiss on her forehead -- Lily squirms away, attempting to say a ‘getoff’ which is entirely unproductive --- before he goes and slumps down next to Remus with a big grin on his face.

Remus watches it all with a brilliant, wide smile, and he looks so entirely happy that Lily thinks it’s probably worth tolerating Sirius Black.

Chapter Text

It doesn’t really strike her that she’s never been up to the boy’s dorm until she’s rapped on the wood of the door.

“Remus?”

Sirius is the one who calls her in. She’s relieved when she steps into the room to discover that it’s just the two of them. It hadn’t really occurred to her that she might’ve been walking straight into the path of James Potter, who she generally tries to avoid, until she’d already knocked on the door. She’d been too overcome by the noise in her head to really think it through, operating on some foggy instinct.

She’d needed to be around someone safe.

Lily shuts the door behind her, takes a step into the room and sits dumbly on top of the nearest bed. It is surprisingly tidy. The whole room smells faintly of teenage-boy and something unusually floral underneath that reminds her of the potions classroom.

She’s only vaguely aware that they’re in a slightly compromising position and that Remus is hissing an irritated ‘Sirius’ in his direction, quite deliberately trying to straighten himself out. They’d at least been fully-dressed, but they’d very much been occupying space on the same bed, and Remus looks faintly embarrassed as he tries to place distance between them.

Richard Harrison had told her she’d seen Remus heading up here ten minutes ago. She probably should’ve asked if anyone was with him. She’s interrupting again and, since becoming an unwitting co-conspiratory in their relationship, she’s all too aware of the rarity of an empty dormitory.

“I should --- I should go.” Lily says, and half makes to stand up again.

“Lily?” Remus asks, then he’s up and has crossed the space and sits next to her. “Are you alright?”

“No,” Lily says, flat. She blinks. She feels the very real threat of tears pushing at the back of her eyes. She sucks in a sharp breath and digs her fingers into her knees. “Snape.”

“What did he do?” Sirius growls, his voice suddenly hot.

“Nothing —- he just. We haven’t talked for ages and —— we had a run in.”

Remus makes that sympathetic noise he’s always reserved for whenever Lily talks about Snape.

Lily looks up at him.

“She’s dead, isn’t she? Susan Carter. All her family.”

“Yes.” Sirius says, dark.

“Those people, all those muggles. And he’s part of it. Going to be part of it. He wants it. I was so ---- naive.”

“Lily,” Remus says, gentle and low. His fingers dig into her shoulder.

“And Roisin and Amy are having some —- stupid fight, and I can’t stand any of it, trying to pretend we’re all just teenagers when the whole fucking world is falling apart.”

“What do you need?”

“I need all of this to stop,” Lily says, “But I know I can’t have that. So —— so what I want —- what I really want is to get incredibly high and forget about it for a few hours.”

Sirius and Remus look at each other for a moment.

“That sounds like something that can be arranged.”

*

Lily Evans is completely and deliciously off her face in the Shrieking Shack, with none other than Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

It is not how she anticipated her day turning out.

She’d thought that she was somewhat beyond surprise when it came to Hogwarts and how all the pieces of it fit together, and how much the four of them happened to know about it, but the fact that she’s currently on the inside of something she’d visited as a tourist attraction for years had certainly taken her aback.

It had been Remus’ idea for them to come down here. He and Sirius had some whispered debate about it before Remus had overruled Sirius’ apparent objections, with the only explanation offered before they set off that it was where they kept the ‘good stuff’ and it was ‘definitely private’. Had she been less fully saturated by Snape and the war, she probably would’ve voiced a whole host of questions when Sirius stole James’ invisibility cloak, bundled her under it with Sirius (‘too tall’ Remus had shrugged at her questioning eyebrow, ‘and I’d be in less trouble, trust me’), then led her down a steep, dark passage under the whomping willow. Then they’d emerged into this broke, battered cottage and she’d walked numbly around the front room before it had all come together: the Shrieking Shack.

They’d both enjoyed her raised eyebrows, that eventually gave way to a slighted awed ‘huh’. By that point, Remus had already situated himself on the frayed remains of a rug and began rolling several joints. She’d accepted the cushion Sirius chucked her away and sat cross-legged opposite him, still eyeing up the half-destroyed furniture, recalibrating, thinking.

The shrieking sodding shack.

And now everything feels deliciously far away and surreal in all the best ways.

All of it: sitting in the guts of a haunted house she suspects isn’t haunted at all, opposite two teenage boys she finds both entirely ridiculous and growingly endearing at the other end of a secret passage, trying to explain teenage girls.

“Run it by me again.” Sirius says, assessing her with more interest that he’d probably ever displayed before the last two weeks. They’ve rubbed up against each other well enough in the peripheries, with some minimal antagonism that never really blossomed into active dislike, but they’ve never really known each other. The incidents these last few weeks are by far the longest they’ve spent in each other’s company. She’s never got the impression that Sirius has been remotely interested in her before now. Then again, she'd never really been interested back. They've co-existed. The've never really had an actual conversation. This is the first time she's ever felt like she's known anything about Sirius Black.

“Roisin used to date Matthew O’Connor.”

“Yes, last year.”

“And now he’s asked Amy to Hogsmeade."

“Following so far,” Sirius nods.

“So now they’re arguing.” Lily says, “And Roisin’s fallen out with Jane for not backing her up, so I --- I am steering clear of the lot of them til they’ve sorted it out.”

“And this is where you’ve lost me.” Sirius says, brushing his hair out of his eyes. Lily laughs. Currently, Sirius — who barely listens in class yet always seems to know everything — being dumbfounded by girl-politics feels wildly entertaining. Remus is smirking next to him, watching the two of them go back and forth with an uncensored grin. “Amy said no to O’Connor.”

“Correct,” Lily says, “But she wants to go.”

“For Godrick’s sake, why? O’Connor’s dull. I can’t see he’s worth arguing over.”

“Mmhm. You can get away with a lot of social deficits when you’re that tall.”

“That’s right, didn’t you go out with O’Connor?” Sirius asks, squinting at her. “Pretty sure I remember Prongs going on about it.”

“One date,” Lily says.

“Sluggers Christmas party.” Remus substitutes.

“Where he hit it off with Roisin, who’d been invited by Benedict Thrush.”

“Sounds like a bigger violation than this Fletcher-Hogsmeade business. Why aren’t you off falling out with Jane over it?”

“Well, it was a year ago,” Lily smirks, “And O’ Connor was very dull and, crucially, she asked permission. That’s the protocol. The problem is —- Amy was supposed to ask first.”

“Before she fancied him, or before he asked her out?”

“Yes, precisely. Both.”

“This is all ludicrous.”

“And Roisin was supposed to say yes, regardless of how she felt about it.”

“Then what,” Sirius says, flatly, “is the point?”

Lily laughs and stretches her legs out.

“It’s good manners, isn’t it? Acknowledgment of feelings. Like —— if Remus dumps you and decides he’d rather date James, James really ought to run it by you first.”

Remus chokes on the lungful of air he’d just breathed in. Sirius sends him a look, then looks back at her, seemingly speechless. “Or if Peter wanted to date your brother —“ It’s Sirius’ turn to cough now, a fascinating journey on his face. “Or any member of your family really, given everything.”

“Luckily, my family only date their cousins,” Sirius says, icily, which is suddenly deeply funny. Remus cracks first, then Lily’s at it, hopelessly giggling into her sleeves.

“Who d’you thinks most likely to get the seal of approval from your mother, Sirius, me or Pete?”

“Depends on if you’re willing to humiliate a few squibs,” Sirius says, “Effie and Monty won’t ever forgive you for breaking my heart though, you Marauder-jumping-Hussy.”

“James’ parents,” Remus substitutes for Lily, “Think your heart might be safe though, Pads.”

“Not into gangly, specky, Quidditch players?”

“Hmhmm, no, I like my men short and brooding.”

“Tosser,” Sirius says, with great affection. They look at each other for a few moments, then Sirius looks away, back at her. “I didn’t know you were fun, Evans.”

“Pads,” Remus says, and kicks him.

“What?” Sirius says, temporarily holding the joint between his teeth as he props himself up on his elbows, he brushes his hair out of his face. “I’m merely stating --- that hitherto I had --- assumed you were a bit of a goody two shoes. You always seemed to be in a huff with us. Huff at first sight,” Sirius says, with his normal air of gravitas and drama. It’s funnier like this, with his softness on show; the way they're lying on the floor with their ankles bumping together, Remus watching him with his eyes swimming with affection. “The second Gryffindor of the year. I was the first, you know.”

“We know, Sirius, we all learnt the alphabet.” Remus says, and he’s rolling another joint. Lily can’t fathom wanting another ever again.

“And then you arrive, the first time we’ve met, and you give me this derisive look of disgust and huff off. By the time Remus arrived, I was desperate--- I’d have taken anyone.”

Remus shoves their shoulders together. Sirius offers him one of those dazzling smiles.

“That’s not the first time we met,” Lily says. Sirius looks at her blankly, staring. “On the train, Sirius.” Sirius screws his face up. “With --- with Snape?”

“I remember Snape. And James.”

“Even then, you only had eyes for Potter,” Lily says, which wins her a big, gratifying bark of laughter. “Editing me out. Unbelievable.”

“Complicated day, Evans.” Sirius says, “But --- I’ll admit that makes sense. I suppose in the moment I thought you were one of those purist lot.”

“Nope.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Well, No. Anyway, we’re getting off track with my story. There I was. A Black, the first Gryffindor of the year. Practically the first one under the hat. One of you ought’ve done me a favour and been an Anderson, or an Abbot or something.”

“Remus Adams.”

“Hmmm, I like it.” Sirius says. “Remus John Adams.”

“You’re addled.”

“Generally. Ideally. ” Sirius says, and then he stretches out his shoulders. “So -- I’m sitting at the table, on my own,”

“We’re going in circles,” Remus says.

“That’s the weed, Messer Adams,” Sirius says, with a smirk, “And there’s this endless silence, the whole sorting ceremony stalls as everyone recovers from the shock of it, a Black --- in Gryffindor, and then there’s Dawlish for Ravenclaw, but she’s the size of an ant, and looks like she might throw up on her own shoes. Two Elderberrys, both ridiculous, and then, finally --- here’s ‘Lily Evans -- Gryffindor!’ This defiant young ginger. And I thought --- thank fuck, here’s a sturdy looking Gryffindor to accompany me in my hour of need and then ---”

“-- I didn’t know it was an hour of need, you berk,” Lily says. “And I don’t think sturdy is a compliment.”

“What were you thinking then?”

“That this wanker called my best friend something rude not three hours ago and, god, I hope I don’t throw up on my own shoes,” Lily says, which has Sirius laughing, deep and loud. “I was thinking --- that ghost doesn’t have a head and, shite, that’s a ghost. I was thinking --- where’s the bloody ceiling? I didn’t notice your big endless silence, I was terrified.”

“It wasn’t that long,” Remus says, smiling slightly.

“It lasted for three days and I won’t hear anything to the contrary.” Sirius says. “So that was it, then, Evans --- off on the wrong foot?”

“Severus,” Lily says, as she sucks in another breath of air. “He was --- my only link into this whole, scary word. And you were awful. I know he, well —— Not that it matters now.”

“If it helps,” Sirius says, rolling onto his back, then looking back to her, catching her eye upside down. “All my childhood best friends are Death Eaters too.”

Lily makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and an exhale.

“You know what, Sirius, I think it might actually.”

“Hallelujah,” Sirius says, “Finally a benefit to it. Remus -- this stuff is excellent. Much better than Fletcher’s. Where did you get it?”

“Hmm. Wilberforth Butcher,” Remus says, “Smelt it on him. Confiscated it.”

“You brilliant, beautiful freak,” Sirius says, “Do we still have alcohol in here?”

“Floorboards,” Remus says.

“This place is --- really something,” Lily says, watching as Sirius gets up, moving around the place with a degree of grace. He pulls up the floorboards and retrieves a bottle. “Is this where you transform, then?”

Sirius drops the bottle. It hits the floor with a clunk, rolls in her direction. She stops it with her foot. Sirius is exceptionally still for a moment, and then Remus starts laughing. A deep, big, belly laugh.

“Oh,” Lily says, as she fully registers what she’s just said, and how deliberately she’d not be saying it for such a long time. Currently, it’s difficult to remember why she’d kept such a tight lid on it, given she’s been sure Remus suspected she knew for a long time. It’s not the most elegant way of doing it, but she’s not sober enough to care. “Was I still supposed to be pretending I didn’t know?”

“You know?” Sirius demands, staring at her.

“I wouldn't’ve bought her here if she didn’t,” Remus says, smiling widely as his gaze shifts from Lily to Sirius. “Are you sober enough to be conjuring?”

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Sirius says, then wildly jabs with his wand. He does produce the three glasses he was aiming at, but a fountain of marbles also falls from the tip and scatters over the floor. He shrugs, kicks one into the corner with his foot. He sits back down and slides them across the floor.

“Glassess, we are going up in the world.”

“This is a classy establishment, Moony,” Sirius says, “And we have a lady present. Top them up then, Lily.”

“I’m Lily, now,” Lily says, as she dutifully pours three glasses. “I do feel special.”

“Well, apparently you know things,” Sirius says, and he sends a sharp look in Remus’ direction. Searching.

“I didn’t tell her,” Remus says, “She’s just observant.”

“How long have you known I know?” Lily asks, as she passes the glasses out. The last thing she needs is to drink on top of the rest of it, but she’s feeling quite inclined not to care. She is having a lot of fun and she’s needed this. Everything’s been thick and complicated, and this feels decidedly not-that. Just the right amount of ridiculous. Silly.

“For certain? The patrolling schedules,” Remus says, then nods towards the bottle “Should warn you that every other time this bottle has been drunk, it’s been straight from the bottle.”

“Which means you’re basically snogging Prongs,” Sirius says, “He’ll be thrilled. Patrolling schedules?”

“Hmmm. In a year and a half, I have never, not once, been scheduled to patrol a full moon,” Remus says. “I suspected you’d worked it out before, but when you volunteered to do it…”

“I had a few motives for that,” Lily says, with a wry smile.

“When did you figure it out?” Remus asks, his eyes level on her.

“When I was sure?” Lily asks, “Mini golf. The numpties had to know you’d be gone for them to have enough time to put it together.”

Remus laughs again. Knocks his arm against Sirius, who looks disgruntled and rattled.

“It was so sweet,” Lily says, “So sweet, and such a give away. I —- suspected something a long time before that. Joint project. You did your homework too early. Not like you at all.”

“You’re entirely too smart, Lily.” Remus says, “But yes --- this is where I transform.”

“So best not to come down here for a nice moonlit rendezvous,” Sirius says, with an edge.

“It’s nice,” Lily says, eyeing up the big claw mark in the walls. That wins her another big, belly-laugh from Sirius.

“Lily Evans,” He says, with distinct appreciation.

Remus kicks him again, his expression blossomed into the unadulterated smile, radiating contentedness. She’s quite sure she hasn’t seen Remus this happy for a long time. Unburdened and loose. The weed has probably helped.

“Told you you’d like Lily if you stopped being a git.”

“Oh, so after all that nonsense about first year, you don’t like me, Sirius?” Lily asks, and she thoroughly enjoys the daggers he sends in Remus’ direction, just for a moment, before he looks back at her.

“That’s not what I said.” Sirius says.

“Really?” Remus says, and raises an eyebrow.

“Fine, maybe it is. But ---- no offence, Evans. Lily. I’m sure you’d get sick of you if you heard about you as much as I do. The poetry I have heard. The monologues. The soliloquies.” Sirius says. “Prongs. Bloody endless.”

“Oh, Lord.” Lily says.

“Pecisely,” Sirius says, “And you’re always stealing Remus from us.”

“Am I?” Lily asks, arching her eyebrows at him.

“Down, boy,” Remus says, lighting up his second joint. “Plenty of me to go around without a territory war.”

“There isn’t,” Sirius says, with a huff. “And we claimed you first. Should’ve made you sign something. Stop all this ‘having a life outside of us’ nonsense.”

“Wanker.”

“Yes, Moony.” Sirius says, and then bats his eyelashes, “But I only think of you.”

Lily snorts into her fire whisky.

Remus buries his face into the crook of his elbows for a minute, his shoulders shaking slightly.

“Ridiculous.” Remus mutters.

“You’re both ridiculous,” Lily says, watching them. Remus carries on laughing into his elbows, eventually pulling himself back up, propping himself by his chin she suspects, in part, to continue smoking. “Don’t worry, Sirius. His loyalties have always been very clear. I’ve known for a long time that he is utterly unable to help himself when it comes to you lot.”

“True,” Remus says. “I’m a disaster.”

“Awful.”

“Honestly, I have no idea why you put up with me.” Remus says.

“Me neither,” Lily says, with a grin. “And to think, I once had such a friendship crush on you, Remus Lupin. I was so disappointed when you went off and joined your cult. I thought we were going to be best friends.”

Remus laughs again, folding forward for a moment with it, then he passes his joint in Sirius’ direction and looks up at her.

“So did I,” Remus says, smiling. They’ve never talked about this like this. It’s refreshing to be honest. “That had been the plan. Avoid the loud, boisterous ones, make a nice quiet friend and blend into the background. Of course, I underestimated you entirely on that, thinking you quiet.”

“It happens.” Lily says.

“But then you lied to get us out of detention,” Sirius grins, “Lily, you’ve not seen anything until you’ve seen this man lie. Diabolical.”

“I’ve had practice,” Remus says, with a grin Lily’s never really seen before. Usually, he hides his mischievousness, but it’s fully on display here: a wicked, unapologetic smile, a glint in his eyes. It suits him. He looks free in a way he doesn’t a lot of the time. “And then they drag me out of bed, throw an invisibility cloak over my head and tell me we’re going hunting for secret passages.”

“And it was love at first detention,” Lily says, smiling. “Well I think we all ended up where we were supposed to be.”

“Did you ever have an actual crush on him, Lily?” Sirius asks, eyes narrowing. She’d almost forgotten about how Sirius used to go on about that, until James had started pursuing her and it had never been mentioned again.

“No,” Lily says, “Not that you aren’t fanciable, Remus, but I know a lost cause when I see one.”

“Told you Lily was too smart.” Remus says, prodding Sirius in the arm. He lingers in his space, knocks their arms together.

“Yes, yes, I’ve heard all about how smart Lily is,” Sirius drawls, rolling his eyes. He proffers the joint out to her, eyebrow arched.

“You’ve been jealous, Sirius?” Lily asks, as she takes it.

Sirius huffs. If she’s wholly honest, Lily’s quite sure she was jealous too. It’s… gratifying, for it to be mutual.

“My two favourite people happen to like you a lot.”

“I’m sure they’ve plenty of love to go around, Sirius,” Lily says, smirking at him. Sirius flips her off and reaches for the bottle of the fire whisky. She laughs.

“I will acknowledge,” Sirius says, after he’s taken another drink and assessed her for a few moments, “That, all things aside, you’re decent enough company.”

“Such high praise,” Lily says, laughing again as she passes the joint back over, and stretches out her legs. “You’re not so bad either, Sirius. Not nearly as much of a prat as I thought.”

“Thank you,” Sirius says, with put upon seriousness. He raises his glass. She reaches forward and clinks them together. The moment settles over them for a little while, before his expression stills, turns curious.

“What?”

“Question. Don’t bite my head off.” Sirius says.

“No promises,” Lily flashes back.

“Fair enough,” Sirius says, and sets down his glass on the floor. “Why do you hate James?”

Remus stills at that, his attention turning from Sirius to the side of her face. Lily glances down, feels her face flush slightly. It’s been incredibly easy not to think about the other members of the quarter over the course of her joint.

“I don’t hate James. I just don’t want to date him.”

“That’s fair enough,” Sirius says, “I don’t particularly want you to date James. But --- you act like you hate James.”

“Because he embarrasses me,” Lily says, her face really heating up now, “He’s —- constantly humiliating me.”

Sirius and Remus exchange a look.

“I’m relatively sure he thinks he’s only embarrassing himself.” Remus says, much more serious than he’s been for quite some time. He’s watching her carefully. They’ve specifically tried to avoid talking about James, and it’s strange to do this with Sirius present and prompting it.

“Wherein the problem,” Lily says, “Asking someone out isn’t supposed to make them feel small.”

“I will acknowledge that he’s not very good at it,” Sirius says. “Horrible at it, actually.”

“He’s had enough practice.”

“Only with a hostile audience, to be fair.” Sirius says. Lily’s head snaps up, raising a question.

“No, I’m —- surely —?”

“—-yep,” Sirius says, “Only girl he’s ever asked on a date.”

“It’s true,” Remus verifies.

“It’s terrifying stuff, Evans. Remember when Pete nearly passed out before speaking to Cosgrove?”

“I remember you not being very kind about it, yes.” Remus says, pointedly.

“It’s a miserable business,” Sirius says, “Shakes the bravest man.”

“It really is awful,” Remus agrees.

“When have you ever gotten nervous about asking someone out, Sirius?”

“Never,” Sirius admits, “But I’ve never done it.”

“What?” Lily asks, “Last year you went through half the castle.”

“Well, I waited to be approached. Treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em —”

“— pissed off and writing rude graffiti in the girls toilets ?”

“Something like that,” Sirius laughs, “Of course, it helped that I wasn’t very interested in any girl. Takes the pressure off.”

“So Remus asked you out?”

“Well. There wasn’t really any asking, as such.” Remus says, gaze fixed on his joint.

“Technically , we haven’t been out anywhere.” Sirius says, “Does that mean I’m buggering it up? Have you been waiting on some — romantic overture? My deepest apologies Moony, treating you like a common harlot.”

“Fuck off.” Remus says.

Sirius pulls out his wands and attempts to conjure some flowers, but they come out slightly wonky, and one of them happens to be a flamingo.

“Shite.” Sirius says, as he waves his wand again. The flamingo lets out an undignified squark, and makes a break for it. The light hits it in the chest, and it flickers out of existence, then turns into a heavily wilted daffodil.

He thrusts it in Remus' direction.

“Will you have me then?”

“Lunatic,” Remus mutters, “Can I give you back on Sundays?”

“Mhmm. Prongs can deal with me then.”

“Fine.”

“You two are sweet.”

“Take it back, Lily, I’m not sweet.” Sirius says, “Moony, I can’t have you turning me sweet, I have a reputation to uphold. What have you done to me?”

“My apologies,” Remus says, and then he reaches out and tucks one of the sad daffodils behind his ear. Sirius smiles at him, this boisterous-grin that turns soft at the edges, bleeds into something affectionate. Sirius is fascinating when his guard’s down.

“Oh yes --- you’re not sweet at all,” Lily says, dry. “Have you ever asked anyone out, Remus?”

Sirius starts to laugh, folding forward so his head momentarily collides with Remus’ chest. Then he turns around and looks at her eagerly, waiting for Remus to speak.

“Yes,” Remus says, sounding haunted.

“Who?” Lily asks. Remus doesn’t answer. “Who?”

“Claire Robinson,” Sirius answers for him, barely holding back his smirk.

“I didn’t know about that.”

“Well you wouldn’t, would you,” Sirius says, and cackles, “It isn’t like she’d tell anyone.”

“What?”

“Remus’ problem is everyone thinks he’s nice.”

“Remus is nice.”

“Yes, but then —- they expect him to be nice.”

“It’s just ---- too much pressure,” Remus says, “Too much expectation to say the right thing. You’re suddenly —- conscripted into performing the ‘good guy’ romantic lead in some film-romance, except no one gives you the script. Everyone expects Sirius to be an arse, so he just --- gets away with it.”

“True,” Sirius says, with a grin.

“What happened?”

“Look, I knew she’d been —- expecting me to, alright?”

“They’d kissed in the library.” Sirius adds as an aside. He’s enjoying himself a great deal.

“And we’d —- been talking.”

“Passing notes,” Sirius says, “Now --- that was all very sweet, Lily. Adorable.”

“I was barely thirteen, you prick,” Remus says, “And she kept —- waiting for me to do it. And I was incredibly nervous and — she kept looking at me, waiting for it, and I —— finally got some words out.”

“She didn’t say no? After all that.”

“No, she bloody didn’t,” Sirius says, “She said yes all right.”

“And then I realised I’d been so —- stressed about doing it right that I hadn’t registered that I didn’t want to. So I took it back.”

“You didn’t?”

“It was awful.”

“You pig.”

“I know.” Remus says, grim.

“I suppose it’s better than going out with her if you didn’t want to. Marginally.”

“It wasn’t like,” Remus says, and pinches his forehead, “I didn’t go off her, I just —- had this sweeping realisation that she was the last person on earth I could imagine ever telling I was a werewolf.”

“You think too much,” Sirius says, with a heavy gaze, “Don’t think she was expecting you to marry her, Moony.”

“No, Well. After that I tried to avoid it.”

“A wise strategy,” Sirius says, “See, Lily, even the best of us can act like a bit of a tosser.”

Remus hums an agreement.

“Remus,” Lily begins, and she’s edging towards saying something about that werewolf comment. It’s the first time she’s ever heard him say it out loud. He can tell she’s about to launch into something, because he barrels onwards.

“I was ——thrilled when the upside to liking blokes turned out to be that they tend to be happy to skip the conversation part,” Remus says, “Delighted to skip it, normally, especially the closeted ones. The science of knowing looks and hinting at things and then all --- mutually pretending it didn’t happen is much easier.”

“That is --- I don’t even know what to say about that.” Lily says, shaking her head at him.

“Knew you’d be disappointed,” Remus says, looking up at her with a bit of a sheepish grin.

“Just --- baffled. Girls aren’t that complicated.”

“Tell that to poor Jane,” Sirius says, “Ousted for --- what was it? Godrick only knows. No. You’re best off sticking with me, Moony.”

“Hmm. Only reason,” Remus says, side-eyeing him with a look swimming with fondness.

“Poor Claire,” Lily says, and Sirius starts laughing again, in such a way that he and Remus end up very close together.

“I’m sure she’s over it by now,” Sirius says.

“Easy to get over, am I?”

“You are,” Sirius says, all eyes on him, attention so determinedly on Remus that Lily might as well be dead, “Not nearly as easy as I’d like you to be, Lupin.” Remus snorts, lifts a hand to touch his cheek. When Sirius continues, his voice is lower. “Very happy to benefit from your ineptitude with girls.”

Lily clears her throat. Sirius shuts his eyes as if he’s in actual pain, and then turns back to face her.

“You still haven’t said how this actually happened,” Lily says, gesturing between them, “If you were so desperate to avoid a conversation about it.”

“Different situation,” Sirius says, “Although. Hmm. Maybe we should have a conversation about it at some point. What do you reckon, Moony?”

Remus huffs and kicks him again. Sirius hooks his foot around his leg and keeps it there.

“So, what. One day you just --- planted one on him?”

Remus is looking at his fingernails very carefully.

“More or less.”

Sirius snorts.

“We were having —- an argument: the temper on this one, Lily. Very unstable,” Sirius says, which doesn’t really sound like her Remus at all. She’s never really seen him lose his temper. Once, maybe, when she'd seen him snap, but she’s used to him being level-headed and calm. Steady.

“You were sulking.”

“I was jealous.” Sirius says, and then he lets his hair drop down around his face. He still has a daffodil tucked behind his ear. “Hideously. For ---- lifetimes. Which you knew full well.”

“Suspected.” Remus corrects.

“Anyway, fair's fair, Lily. Your turn to cough up some romantic horror story.” Sirius says. Lily picks up her glass, swirls the liquid around.

“Bertram Aubrey. My first kiss.” Lily says.

“Oh, excellent.”

“He came to meet me after Herbology. And —- as it happened, me being a good, responsible student—”

“Of course.” Remus nods.

“—- Sprout had asked me a favour. Pomfrey had someone trying to curse off the acne again, see —-”

“Oh, no.”

“So — she asked if I’d do her the favour of carrying one of the Bubotubers up to the hospital wing.”

“I see where this is going.”

“And so, he sidles right up to me—— and I think he must’ve been nervous, because instead of saying hello or, you know, allowing me any time to talk, warn him, —- he just —-kisses me.”

“Any good?” Remus asks.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I really had a chance to decide, because next moment ——the plant exploded. Everywhere.”

“Everywhere?”

“Oh, everywhere. I drop it. He --- runs away and --- never speaks to me again.”

“He --- never spoke to you again?”

“Not once,” Lily says, “To this day he runs away from me if he sees me in the corridor. I had to go to the hospital wing for boils.”

“Brilliant,” Sirius grins.

“I heard later that he was so intent on avoiding me he didn’t go to the hospital wing for a week. Ended up permanently scarred.”

“Poor bloke.”

“Poor me.”

“That too,” Sirius agrees, and laughs. “Can you teach some poor bugger how to speak to girls, then?”

“Something you’re not telling me, Pads?” Remus asks, arching an eyebrow.

“If you’re talking about Potter, then ---”

“Nooo,” Sirius drawls, “Pete. He’s been mooning over Jane for months.”

“Jane?” Lily says, “But he’s never said a word to Jane.”

“Precisely, Lily.”

“Oh,” Lily says, and then turns it over in her head. “I can see that. I don’t know that treating us like human beings is a skill that’s teachable, but I can --- put in a good word.”

“Excellent.”

“That’s nice, Padfoot.” Remus says, turning to look at him.

“Mmhmm. If we can foster Pete off on some girl, it’ll be much easier to get the dorm to ourselves.”

Remus huffs a laugh, shakes his head and opens his mouth to say something insulting --

And it’s that moment that the door flies open with a slam.

James Potter stands in the doorway with a look of jubilant triumph that quickly gives away into out-and-out confusion. He begins a ‘what?’, takes a step further into the room, promptly slips on one of the marbles Sirius accidentally conjured earlier, and then goes careening backwards, landing flat on floor with an indignified yelp.

For a few seconds, they all stare at him on the floor.

Then Sirius grins and says “boo.”

Lily starts laughing helplessly. His face is a picture, complete shock, and she’s suddenly entirely sure that James Potter knows about Remus-and-Sirius, that their whole stupid game has been James attempting to catch them out, and he --- he’s picking himself off the floor now, looking between the three of them and the bottle of firewhisky with abject surprise. The smell of weed hangs in the air. Remus-and-Sirius had used to the moment of his falling to shift perceptibly further away, settling somewhere close but not suspiciously close. For a moment, he’d looked entirely gleeful, and now he is utterly, utterly baffled.

“Evans?”

“Evening, Potter.” Lily says, cheerfully. The others are laughing too, but James’ expression is beginning to turn sharp and stormy. Serious. She’s rarely seen it like that.

“Remus, a word.” James says, his voice sharp.

“Relax, James,” Remus says, pulling himself up into a standing position.

“She shouldn’t be here.”

“She knows.”

“She ---” James begins, then his gaze snaps towards her. “What?”

“Figured it out, Prongs.” Sirius says, “Years ago, apparently.”

“And she’s ---?”

“Of course,” Remus says, “It’s fine, James.”

“Looks like I know all your secrets, Potter.” Lily says, smirking up at him, because it’s so entirely rare that she has the upper hand when it comes to James.

Sirius laughs raucously. He claps her on the shoulder and stands up.

“Not quite, Lily. Not quite.”

James seems to be entirely speechless. He glances between the three of them a bit more, his expression flicking between bafflement, curiosity and something else.

“You’ve missed dinner.” Is what he settles on, eventually, his tone coming a lot more like McGonagall’s than Lily could have ever envisioned it.

“And come to think of it, I’m bloody starving.”

“I bet you are,” James says, acidically.

“Come on,” Remus says, “It’s about time we got back.”

They don’t bother with the cloak on the way back to the castle. James assures them there’s no one around and apparently his word is sufficient for the others, and she follows their lead because they seem so entirely confident about it.

For most of the way back through the passage, she can hear James and Sirius hiss at each other and she catches just enough of it that she understands she’s the topic of their hushed-argument. Remus walks serenely by her side, offering her an amused raised eyebrow whenever she catches his eye.

After they’ve spilled out onto the grounds, it seems to occur to James that he has a unique ability to try and speak to her.

“I didn’t know you smoked pot, Evans.”

“Sometimes.” Lily says, folding her arms over her chest. It’s cold and the air whips her closer back to sobriety. If she’d anticipated how long they’d be out in the shack, she’d have bought a jumper down with her. “You’re aware it's a muggle thing.”

“Yes,” James says, eagerly. “So. Are you having a good night?”

“I was.”

“We’ve been --- at Quidditch.”

“Yes, Potter, I can see from the robes.” Lily says. Behind her, Sirius barks a laugh. Remus elbows him in the gut.

“I didn’t know you --- about Moony.”

“Have you considered that it might not be the most conspicuous nickname?”

“Well it,” James begins, then ruffles his hair. “Peter came up with it.”

“Classy of you to blame the only person not here,” Lily says. James makes a face, shuts his jaw shut, and looks at his shoes. “It begs the question about what Prongs is supposed to mean.”

“Sorry, Lily. Classified.” Remus says. “Technically, all of the nicknames are supposed to be classified, but I supposed we’re not as subtle as we like to believe.”

“Definitely not.” Lily snorts.

They’re silent for a few more paces.

“Evans,” James tries again, quieter. “It’s good of you. About Remus. To be decent about it.”

Lily tries to push back her instinctive annoyance to summon up some kind of generosity. She tries to think of Sirius’ words -- even the best of us can act like a bit of a tosser -- and settle on giving him the benefit of the doubt. At least while he’s not being loud, or embarrassing, or attempting to ask her out.

“Well, he’s one of my best friends, Potter.” Lily says. “Of course I’m going to be --- decent about it.”

“Not everyone ---” James begins, then cuts himself off. Nods. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“And I’m a muggleborn,” Lily says, “I didn’t even know about all this --- awful discrimination until they started printing it in the Prophet.”

James head bobs.

“It is awful,” He says, in a rush, “It’s sickening that they’re having some stupid debate about whether or not they’re a --- thing.”

“It’s not that simple, James.” Remus cuts in, he sounds tired. “They have to do something about the likes of Greyback. Classification as a beast gives them greater power to ---”

“--- you can’t agree with it, Remus?” Lily asks, her voice incredulous. “The registry ---”

“It won’t make a difference,” Remus says, and his voice has turned sharper than she’s ever heard it. It's harsh, cut glass. Devoid of anything like humour. “The legislation isn’t the problem. Now isn’t the time. It’s --- the course is set.”

“Cheery sod, isn’t he?” Sirius says. Lily turns around to shoot him a glare and catches Sirius tugging at his arm and, just for a moment, squeezing his hand. Remus is looking straight ahead. He doesn’t react. The light, easiness of the evening seems to have slipped away.

“I still think they’re all morons,” James says, after the silence has dragged on. It breaks something tense in the air.

“Right you are, Prongs,” Sirius says, and claps him on the shoulder. “When we rule the world ---”

“--- god save us all,” Remus mutters, and there’s some small measure of amusement slipping into his voice again.

“--- we’ll swap all their shampoo for Bubotuber puss.”

“No,” James says, “Hair loss lotion.”

“Oh, brilliant, Prongs. They’ll be balding morons.”

“Daily howlers of Celestina Warbeck, so they’ll never get out of their heads.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Sirius says, “I’ll put itching powder in their loo roll.”

“Flobberworms in their shoes.” Remus says.

“Yes, Remus,” Sirius says, and claps his shoulder and squeezes. “Think of the squelch.”

They’re approaching the castle now.

“There must be something we could do with dungbombs,” James says, thoughtfully.

“Something to keep pondering,” Sirius says, as they slip back through the front door.

For a moment, they all stare at each other. She’s suddenly very aware of how unlikely it is for the four of them to be together. Strangely, she doesn’t much feel like breaking the spell of the evening yet. It feels like it’s holding something else at bay; something she’s entirely unable to deal with.

“Shall we go to the kitchens? Get some food before curfew?” Lily suggests, directing her question primarily to Remus to avoid looking James in the eye.

“You know about the kitchens?” James asks, staring at her with a slack-jawed awe. She huffs and looks away from him, and starts walking in that direction, only partially to prove that they’re not the only ones who know things about the castle (she resolutely does not think about their contribution to her knowing that bit of information). The three of them fall into step behind her.

“Can’t believe you’re a stoner hooligan and that you still care about the curfew,” Sirius says, rushing to catch up. “Especially when you’re a Perfect, and you can get away with it anyway.”

“It’s not about the rules.” Lily says, as they round the corner.

“Pfft.” Sirius says.

“Might’ve cared about the rules when I was twelve, before I realised they don’t expel anyone around here, or you lot would've been gone in second year.”

“What is it about then?” James asks, eagerly.

“It’s Avery and Jugson-Junior patrolling tonight. And last time I ran into them alone, they threatened to have my parents killed. And, frankly, I could live without hearing it tonight.”

That kills the tentative ease that had settled over them again after James bought them back from the brink.

There’s a thick, horrible quiet.

She didn’t mean to drop the dead weight into the conversation. She doesn’t look at any of them. Suddenly, she can’t. Suddenly, she can’t stand the thought of looking at any of them. She turns on the spot and strides down the corridor towards the kitchens.

Behind her, she hears Sirius direct a kick at the wall.

“Sometimes,” He says, grim, “I hate this whole fucking place.”

*

When she gets back to her dormitory, Roisin, Jane and Amy are all squashed onto Amy’s bed, and it’s clear that both Roisin and Amy have been crying. Lily crosses the room, lets herself be tugged into the mass-hug, hides her face in the crook of Roisin’s neck. It’s been a very strange day.

“They’ve confirmed she’s dead,” Roisin says. “Susan Carter. My Dad wrote.”

“Oh,” Lily says. Her Dad works at the Prophet. If he said it, then it must be ---

“I really hated her,” Amy says, blinking up at the ceiling. Roisin lets out this noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and sob. Honestly, Lily didn’t like her much either, but it all feels so much more real when it’s someone they know, someone they walked hallways with. She was only twenty one. “We’ve finished arguing now, Lily.”

“Good,” Lily says, fierce.

“Sorry,” Roisin says, and rubs her face.

“No, I’m sorry,” Lily says, “I just couldn’t ---”

“Oh, Merlin, let’s not do that,” Amy says, “We’ve had enough hysterionics, haven’t we?”

“Definitely,” Jane agrees.

“And where have you been, Lily?” Amy asks, pointedly. She’s sure hair must still smell of the stuff, that some of the evening is written all over her.

“Strange night,” Lily says, looking up at the ceiling of the four poster bed. Her head’s still swimming a bit. Her argument with Snape is beginning to creep back up on her. Susan Carter is dead. Susan Carter is dead. She’d known that for weeks, really, it had just become real with the extra details printed in the Prophet this morning. “But --- I think I just became friends with Sirius Black.”

“Bloody hell.” Amy says, irreverent and brilliant as always, “How long were we arguing?”

Roisin laughs. Jane smiles.

They stay like that for some time.

*

At breakfast, Lily is pouring over her prophet — reading the confirmation about the Carter murders — when she distractedly goes to pick up her coffee. She shrieks when it turns into an eagle in her hands, its wings beating frantically. She drops it and the eagle takes off, launching itself into the air. It only ascends half a foot before it suddenly explodes into a stream of glitter-confetti and coffee.

And then Sirius is there.

“Boo.” Sirius says, and grins.

Chapter Text

She’s walking back from an entirely too-long conversation with Slughorn about healing potions when something slams into her back. She jolts for a moment, registers the incredibly solid thing that just rammed her is James Sodding Potter, and then he grabs hold of her robes, jerks her forward ---

“--- Run, Evans,” James says.

“What?” Lily asks, but she’s already being dragged into a motion, propelled forward. Vaguely, she can hear the slamming of feet on the stone behind her. Slap, slap, slap. She hasn’t entirely registered what’s happening, or why she’s in motion, then James Potter abruptly stops --- and Lily has enough momentum that she practically crashes into him -- he spits something unfathomable at a wall, a mirror, and then ----

Then Lily is being abruptly pulled into a large, spacious cavern.

The mirror-doorway slams shut behind them. Darkness falls over them. Oxygen finally gets into Lily’s lungs.

“Potter.” Lily hisses, then a hand is slammed over her mouth. James is suddenly very close. She’s relatively sure they have never been this close, and it is entirely unwelcome. She feels quite suddenly aware that, over the last year or so, he’s become very tall. He’s looming above her.

“Sorry!” James hisses, “Just ---”

He abruptly slams his own mouth shut. Footsteps echo outside, closer. Whoever it is that had been chasing after him is running with an awkward flat-footed gait. Lily stares him down, but doesn’t make any attempt to make any further noise, or movement, until the pounding footsteps disappear into the distance.

James dislodges the hand over her mouth and steps back awkwardly. He attempts a look she imagines he thinks is ‘charming’ which really settles halfway between ‘goofy’ and ‘ridiculous’.

“Evening, Evans.” James says, and then -- as ever -- his hand goes to his disaster hair, and he ruffles it.

“Potter.”

“Sorry about that,” James winces. “Filch. We should — he might double back in a minute.”

“Filch?” Lily asks, folding her arms over her chest.

“Er, yes.” James says. “He was after me.”

“I can see that,” Lily says. “Where are we?”

“Secret passage.”

“Yes,” Lily says, with a pointed glare, “I gathered. Does it happen to go anywhere convenient?”

“Ah,” James says, and he bites his lip. “Really depends on where you were hoping the evening would take you, Evans.”

“To my dorm room. Promptly. Without getting wrapped up in your mess.”

“Then -- no,” James says, with a gallant attempt at a smile. “Not really.”

“So?”

“Hogsmeade.”

“Hogsmeade.” Lily repeats, and stares at him. She isn’t surprised, really. She’d been relatively certain they’d been sneaking out of the castle for years. The fact that they always turned up with supplies of Butterbeer and various other alcoholic offerings for any Gryffindor parties had made her fairly certain, but she hadn’t expected to be quite literally dragged into one of their usual routes.

“Specifically, it spits you out behind the bins at the Hog’s Head.”

“Wonderful.” Lily says, and pockets her hands. She looks around now that her eyes have grown slightly more accustomed to the darkness. It’s large. There’s certainly worse secret-passages to be stuck in with a seventeen year old idiot.

“Why is Filch after you?” Lily asks, after a few moments.

James’ mouth does something complicated.

“Interesting question, Evans.”

“Potter.” Lily hisses.

“He --- well, Filch might be upset about witnessing the tail end of a certain --- hexing. He deserved it. Avery.” He adds quickly, as Lily’s expression tightens. “He’d been terrorising a second year. That little one.”

“Then -- tell a teacher.”

“Well, that might’ve been an idea,” James says, tilting his head, “But, well, I couldn’t see one and I was trying to get him to stop as quickly as possible.”

Lily huffs. Avery and his gang have been awful recently, spurred on by the grim reports coming from the Prophet. She doesn't really hold James responsible for pulling his wand out, except for the fact that he’s James Potter, and he has an unfathomable ability to irk her. They have spent more time together lately, on account of various shifts in friendships -- a number of which are Lily’s own fault, so she only has herself to blame -- and he’s been…, in a lot of ways, better than he used to be. She can’t quite remember the last time he actually tried to ask her out, but he’s always so eager to talk to her. Impress her. Be the centre of attention. Loud. Present. He’s just so profoundly, continually irritating, and now --- now, that she’s sort-of-friends with Sirius and Jane and Pete are sort-of-maybe-something, and Roisin and Amy have been happy to pick back up the camaraderie they’d had with James and Peter when Remus and Sirius were fighting last year, a lot of the time they’re all just hanging out together, which means she actually has to put up with it — James— more of the time. It’s exposure that’s her problem, rather than any specific behaviour. She probably would’ve hexed Avery too, but she doesn’t feel like giving him the benefit of the doubt, especially not when she’s been dragged into the middle of a sodding secret passage with him. And she wouldn’t’ve been caught. And if she was, she wouldn’t’ve run.

“What hex?”

“Bat bogey,” James says, “It might’ve -- made quite a bit of a mess.”

“Hence irritating Filch.”

“Yes.”

“And why,” Lily says, assessing him. “Did you grab me?”

“Well,” James says, regretfully. “We started running when we heard him, so… what he actually saw was two people running away and I thought --- well, I thought if he ran into you, he might think it was you.”

“We?”

“Pete,” James says, and then he adds, unnecessarily, “He got away. I was --- I was trying to be helpful, Evans.”

Lily exhales. She purposefully doesn’t look at him for a long few moments.

“Well. It sounds like he’s gone.”

“Right. The thing is, Evans ---”

“What?” Lily asks, huffily.

“Well. We’ve suspected, for a while, that Filch knows about the entrance to this passage.”

“Potter.”

“So. There’s a strong likelihood that he’s --- waiting outside. Or, guarding it in some way.” James says, with such a pained expression that she really, really does believe him. “In the moment it seemed like the best option…”

“You can’t have made enough mess that he’s just going to sit outside all night, on the off chance that ---”

“Well,” James says, and his face does something complicated. There’s a flash of both amusement and regret. He schools it into something sheepish, which she’s not sure she believes for a second. “There was something else.”

“What did you do?”

“Maybe it's fine. You have a cat. How annoyed would you be if someone turned it’s tail into a banana?”

Lily can feel the tension racket up in her shoulders.

A banana. A fucking banana.

“And why would you do that?” Lily asks, acidly.

James bites his lip again at this. Aims for amusing levity and falls entirely flat.

“Believe it or not, I was saving Peter’s life.”

She does not, in fact, believe it.

“What are you saying?”

“That, well. Unless you want to take the wrap for it —— we might have to wait out here for a bit.”

“Wait.” Lily says, flat.

“One of the others will come and rescue us when the coast’s clear.”

“How can you know that?”

“Trust me.”

“Absolutely not.” Lily says, pointed.

“That’s fair,” James says, nodding.

“You have an invisibility cloak.”

“Sirius borrowed it ages ago, and Remus has the —— well. They keep running off with it. So. There’s nothing else for it.”

“Just wait?”

“Well. We could walk to Hogsmeade. Cycle back round to one of the other passages and loop back round but … it would take hours. And, we’d have to break into Honeydukes.” James says, tilting his head as if in consideration, “And, of course, there’s no guarantee we wouldn’t bump straight into Filch when we got back anyway, or one of the other Prefects and,” he glances down at his watch, “We’d have sailed quite a long way past curfew by then.”

Lily stares at him for a few long moments.

“Potter,” Lily says, “Are you aware that Filch actually likes me? And if he’d run into me in the corridor, I’d have simply pointed him in your direction and assured him I had nothing to do with it. Except now --- any claim that I had nothing to do with it is entirely unbelievable.”

“Yeah,” James says, grimacing slightly. “In retrospect, grabbing you might not have been the best idea.”

Lily makes an irritated noise and hits her back against the wall.

“Sorry, Evans.”

“So we’re stuck here,” Lily says, irritable.

“Well —— I could go take the fall,” James says, looking slightly brighter. “Tell Filch it was me. And then I’d …”

James trails off, his expression falling.

“What?” Lily asks.

“It’s,” James bites his lip, “Well, it’s the Quidditch match on Saturday, and McGonagall made it quite clear when she made me Captain that if I got detention then there wouldn’t be any rearranging them to ---- but, if you want me too. Atwell —- Atwell’s not a bad reserve.”

Lily stares at him for a few moments.

What she has discovered after being more entwined with the Marauders is quite how seriously James Potter takes Quidditch. She’d witnessed that from afar, before, but it’s something else listening to James pouring over notes about drills and plays, having very serious conversations with the other chasers, hypothesising about scores. She’d seen quite a lot more of Remus, Sirius and Peter over the last few weeks on account of the upcoming Slytherin vs Gryffindor Quidditch match, and James therefore being more absent. When Lily had commented on it, Remus had smiled slightly and said that the match had become ‘James’ contribution to the war effort -- the morale boost of the century. His answer to not feeling powerless on the face of it all.’

And Lily does care about Quidditch. She desperately, earnestly wants to wipe the smiles off their smug Slytherin faces. She wants them to wipe the floor with them. And, for all his other flaws, James Potter is an exceptional Quidditch player.

“No,” Lily grumbles, through gritted teeth. “We’ll wait.”

“I --- okay. Excellent.” James says.

Lily huffs. She slides her back down the wall and sits down. James echoes her movement, sitting on the floor a few paces away.

They’re silent for quite a long time.

“Evans,” James says, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Is there anything I can do to stop you?” Lily asks, irritably.

“Well,” James says, “I suppose we could just sit here in silence. I just --- while we’re here…I thought…” He trails off. The pause is heavy with expectation.

“What?” Lily asks. James takes a long time to say anything. Long enough that she turns back to face him, and is surprised to see a slightly vulnerable expression on his face. “James.” She says, and then immediately regrets it, because she never calls him James. She makes a deliberate point not to.

“Sirius,” James begins, then he looks down at his hands. There’s a furrow in his brow. “Sirius says I humiliate you.”

Lily breaks his gaze and deliberately looks out at the corridor. Of course, she can’t say things to Sirius Black without consequences. She should’ve known that despite their… truce. Friendship. Whatever it is that she formed with Sirius Black, where she still finds him entirely baffling but where there now appears to be some sort of … mutual appreciation... Despite all that, she should’ve remembered what’s always been achingly obvious: that the loyalty of Sirius Black lies squarely with James Potter, and anything she said to Sirius was liable to boomerang back to him.

“That isn’t a question.”

“No, I suppose it isn’t,” James says, and his voice is low, and pained. “But --- I’ve never meant to humiliate you, Evans.”

“Well,” Lily says. “You have.”

“When?”

“Potter.”

“No, I mean. I really want to understand, because --- that’s the last thing I wanted to do,” James says, and there’s some rawness in his voice. “I know you don’t owe me anything, I just ——— I don’t really understand how I’ve gotten it so wrong.”

Lily lets out all the air between her teeth.

“Well,” James says, “I know some of what I got wrong.”

“Really.”

“Yeah,” James says, “I do, Evans. I know I was a prat, alright? I just --- I really wanted you to like me. And I reckon you were right, about me, lots of things you said. That I’m arrogant and egotistical and a bit of an idiot. But I don’t --- I don’t actually think you’re all the way right anymore, Evans.”

A harsh breath bubbles up from deep in her lungs. She digs her fingers into her knee.

“We’ve all grown up a lot. Things have changed. And ---- Sirius was just as bad for a lot of it, and you’ve let him off the hook. You’re friends with him now. And I’m glad. I know how much it means to Remus and it’s nice, having you around, I just ----” He trails off. He sounds small and quiet when he speaks again. “I don’t really understand why we can’t be friends, Evans. Why I can’t have a second chance, but you’ve --- ever since the stupid thing on the train, you’ve been determined to hate me.”

“You remember that. The train.”

“Of course.”

“Sirius didn't.”

“Well, Sirius has his blindspots. Especially when it comes to pretty girls.” He says the last bit quietly, like it’s supposed to be an internal thought, and —- James has offered her a lot of overblown compliments over the years, but there’s something so understated about that that she can feel her skin heat up. It’s the way he says it like it's a fact.

“You’ve always done it,” Lily says, and her voice sounds tighter than she means it to. “Humiliate me.”

James looks at her, unguarded and curious.

“It wasn’t a stupid thing, on the train. You called my friend something horrible.”

“He —-”

“No, I don’t want to hear who started it, it doesn’t matter.”

“Why would that humiliate you? No, I know Evans, why it would upset you, but ---”

“Fine . You humiliated me on our second day when you laughed at me trying to sit with Snape.”

“I was ---” James begins.

“Protecting Sirius. I know, James. I understand. You were protecting your friend, but so was I. And me —- my friends. We had less power than you did. Less social capital. That’s always been how it’s been. And I know, he probably said something horrible —- not that I knew that at the time, not that any of that was my fault, not that I condone any of it, but you — you and Sirius had charisma, wealth, security. For every shitty thing he’s done, Severus Snape has never had that. And it wasn’t just that moment, James. It was --- always. You blew up his potion thirty minutes later. Our sixth week, you messed up a cleaning spell and doused me in water.”

“But —- I was the idiot who got the spell wrong.”

“But everyone likes you, James, they think you’re funny. So I became the butt of the joke. They’re laughing with you, and then I become the joke, and you don’t notice. February, you told everyone Snape made me a Valentine’s day card,” Lily says. James starts to say something, but he slams his mouth shut. “That prank in potions. Joke wands, dungbombs. Maybe it was all stupid and small, and you were just having a laugh, but you never --- you never notice the impact your jokes have on other people. You never noticed that I wasn’t laughing.”

James’ expression is very level. He’s watching her carefully.

“I didn’t enjoy First Year much, James. It was hard. You didn’t help.”

“I didn’t know that.” James says, quiet.

“That has always been precisely my point.”

James is quiet for a long while, considering. When he speaks again, his voice is lower, so wholly stripped of his arrogant try-harder persona that she almost doesn’t recognise it.

“You were so —- dismissive when I asked you out, like it was ludicrous.”

“It was ludicrous,” Lily says, “It felt like you were trying to prove a point. Make another joke.”

“Why would it be a joke?”

“You’ve never taken me seriously. Maybe you don’t take anything seriously.”

“That’s not true,” James says, “It isn’t.”

Lily’s not quite sure how they’ve gotten here. She doesn't know how she’s let herself be dragged into this conversation , where she’s simmering with irritation, all her churned-up frustration bubbled to the surface.

“You've never tried to be my friend.” Lily says.

“I did, actually.” James says, “And I’ve been trying, lately, not that you’d notice.”

“When?”

“I’m not saying I did a good job of it ---- but after that golf thing, I thought you might be right. That I’d been a bit …”

“Insufferably self-centered.”

“Yes,” James says, “Exactly. And I said --- I said we could be friends. I meant that I wanted to be.”

Lily lets out a breath.

“That’s not how you try to be someone’s friend. Like you’re offering me some kind of favour.”

“Well I’ve—— I’ve never really had to try before,” James says, and he’s ruffling his hair again, brow furrowed as he directs the words at his knees. “Its always just sort of happened. Like with Sirius, we were just mates, straight away. And it wasn’t supposed to sound like I was doing you a favour --- an olive branch, Lily. And I know --- I do know, we were all a bit self-involved, but I did notice you —-”

“—-because I beat you, and my existence finally permeated through your existence.”

“No,” James says, “You beat me long before a stupid game of golf. At potions, charms, herbology.”

“You don’t care about academic success.”

“I do, actually,” James says, and he frowns. “Of course I’d —- of course I’d noticed you, you were brilliant, smart, everyone liked you, because you’re --- kind, empathetic. Except to us, I mean. And yes, I’d underestimated you a bit, but I wasn’t —- I meant it, about being friends, and you wouldn’t even talk to me —”

“You were always picking on Snape. I couldn’t be friends with someone who's cruel to my friends.”

“You accepted it the other way round,” James says, “So it’s fine, is it, for him to try and ruin your other friend’s life ---?” James cuts himself off, frustrated. Lily doesn’t know entirely what he’s talking about, only that it must be about Remus because nothing else makes any sense, but he’s already barreling forward.. “No, alright, that’s not fair. I just --- I just meant to say that I have never meant to upset you, Lily, or embarrass you.”

“Remus told you I don’t like everyone looking at me, but you still always, consistently — ”

“I just get --- nervous, and then it comes out too loud.”

“In public.”

“You wouldn’t talk to me when we’re on our own.”

“You’re not entitled to my time, James.”

“I know! But you --- offer it freely to everyone else, and I just --- I wanted to know why. I wanted a chance. I don’t think anyone thinks you're a joke,” James says, “I’ve never —- I’ve never thought you were a joke. I do take you seriously. I’ve always been serious, about you.”

Lily lets that settle over for a few moments. She has absolutely no idea why it feels like she might cry, but it’s --- they’ve never really had a proper conversation. They have certainly never had a conversation like this. She’s not sure she’s ever had a conversation like this, with anyone.

“I don’t understand,” Lily says, “Why you thought I’d say yes. After all of it, given everything, why you even asked?”

“Well, because I —— I really wanted to go to Hogsmede with you. I still do, actually, but ——” James says, and then he trails off. “You’d never actually laughed around me before that game of golf. Look like your might —- like our magic. Me. I’d never seen you have fun. And you were really good and —— I just thought …. Well, honestly, what I actually thought is that maybe we’d go and I’d make you laugh some more, and maybe I’d be able to talk you into joining the Quidditch team, given you’re so good at golf , and then we’d have something to talk about. And yes I wanted you to --- like me, to impress you, but I’m --- well, I’m human, and you’re ---- you’re impressive.”

“You were thinking about Quidditch?” Lily begins, and then she laughs, despite herself. It’s just so unexpected and stupid that it takes her entirely by surprise. It cuts the knees of some of the intensity of how exposing this all feels. Fucking Quidditch. “That’s —- unbelievable.”

“Only a bit,” James says, “But I think I’m probably always thinking about Quidditch a bit.”

Lily finds the corner of her lips twisting upwards.

“I don’t think the skills are that transferable.”

“Well , I’ve seen you fly, too,” James says, “When we had lessons. You were really good. Given you’d never been on a broom before, you were brilliant.”

Lily can feel her face heat up a bit more. She's pleased they’re sitting in the dark and he can’t see, because her traitorous sodding skin wouldn’t help.

‘And back then we didn’t have any muggleborns on the team,” James carries on, “And that’s —- that’s always bothered me. I had this —- idea that maybe we’d go flying and —- and I also thought maybe if you stopped hating us so much, Remus might stop feeling so stuck in the middle wherever we dragged him off, and Padfoot might stop whining about it — because I’m —- also, always a little bit thinking about them. So you see in my head, Evans, it was brilliant. Think I got so far with it as an idea that I was a bit of a tosser about it, and I forgot you hated me.”

Lily stares at the side of his face. He’s not actually looking at her anymore and it’s --- so frustratingly archetypal James Potter, in that it’s almost, if you squint, sweet. And yet, when you step back, it’s horribly thoughtless.

“You are aware,” Lily says, “That none of those things are actually about me as a human being. My blood status, my hypothetical quidditch skill, Remus.”

“It occurred to me a bit when you started yelling at me,” James says, “But they are, in a way. I mean —— Remus, he doesn’t trust people easily , but he trusts you. It’s a risk, for him. Everyone he lets into his life, so —- he doesn’t do it, a lot. Not close enough for anyone to see. But he thought you were worth it, and —— I trust his judgement. And it does make a difference that you’re Muggleborn. Not in a bad way, just that it’s—— harder. That you have to be braver. It makes you better, I think. More impressive. The Quidditch thing -- alright, maybe not that. I still think you’d be good at it.”

“That’s because you have this idea of who I am as a person that has nothing to do with who I actually am,” Lily says, and she looks down at her knees and picks a thread on her robes. “And I’m fed up of it.”

“I don’t think I do, Lily, but…” James says, “I’m sorry. It’s ---- shit that it seems like that. And I know I’ve bollocksed it up and you’re --- you’re dead set, determined, to hate me, but I really --- I really do want you to know that I have never meant to be a git.”

“I don’t hate you,” Lily says, “I’ve never hated you, James, you’re just so ---- annoying.”

“Okay.” James nods, watching her.

“You try too hard,” Lily says, “You spend so much trying to impress me that I feel like I’m constantly under a microscope. I feel like I can’t do anything without you --- reading something into it. And it’s --- exhausting.” Lily carries on, and she’s pulling at a thread on her robes. “And you’re so caught up in Planet Potter that you don’t see what’s in front of you. And it’s infuriating, James. I know you’re capable of care and loyalty. I’ve seen what you’ve done for Remus, Sirius, Peter. How much you’ve done for them. How sweet you can be. But you can’t just —- be so absorbed in your little quartet that you don’t see the rest of the world. Don’t see the impact of your behaviour. People look up to you, James. They follow your lead. You have influence. You have power, and you’re so busy —- playing boo to cheer up your mates that you miss the whole sodding world.”

“I don’t think that’s fair,” James says, “Maybe once, but not anymore.”

“You never notice how your behaviour affects me.”

“I do, Lily, I’ve just --- dug myself into this big hole, and I don’t know how to get out of it, and everytime I talk to you I turn into a total idiot!”

Lily exhales.

“No arguments there.”

“I have --- been trying.” James says, “Not to be a total moron around you.”

“I know you have.” Lily says, and squares her jaw. “I know, James.”

“I was,” James begins, and then he looks down at his hands for a moment. “I was totally absorbed in my ‘little club’. But there’s things you don’t see either, Lily, things you don’t understand. And I’m ---- yes, a bit metal about my friends.”

“They worship you. None of them ever say no to you.”

“It’s not like that.”

“It seems like that.”

“Sirius,” James begins, pauses, and there’s a strange expression on his face. “His family behead their house elves when they get too old. And his mad Mum thought he was too soft with one of them, the only thing in that house that was nice to him, so she tried to make him do it. He was eight. When he refused, she made him watch.”

Lily’s throat feels very thick.

“Pete --- his Uncle and his whole family were murdered, a couple of months before we started Hogwarts. He’d worked in the Muggle Liaison office. His cousin was his age and he thought --- they always thought they were going to Hogwarts together. And Remus, well. His Dad packed him off with dire warnings about how he wasn’t allowed to make any friends, or let anyone notice him whatsoever. Think he’d been forbidden to smile for the previous half-decade, in case anyone took note of it. He certainly wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone. And ---- my parents,” James says, “They’re great, Lily. They’re the best parents in the world. Really. They wanted a big family, but it didn’t happen. They'd pretty much given up altogether when I came along. They’re getting on a bit, and ---- they’ve got this big, beautiful house, everything they could want, but they were still lonely. And so I tried to be --- loud. To fill up all the space. To be big enough to fill up their lives. And --- all their friend’s kids had grown up a long time ago, so --- I didn’t really know anyone my own age, before Hogwarts. And I was … lonely. Loved. Incredibly lucky, but…. --- we all really needed each other, Lily. And … Sirius needed me to be loud, too, larger-than life, to take the heat off him. To be as much in the spotlight as he was. And Remus needed to realise that he didn’t have to disappear into himself, that he could --- be a bit reckless and irresponsible, laugh. And Pete needed to feel part of something, to be --- brave. Protected.” James says, “And --- there was a big magical castle to explore, so --- yeah, we were all a bit carried away, but…. They’re my best mates. And I ---- I’d do anything for any of them. Die for them. I can’t apologise for trying to be what the people I loved needed.”

Lily blinks at her knees.

“I don’t want you to do that.”

“But the --- total, tunnel vision. Not noticing that I was upsetting anyone. Yes, I’m sorry about that.” James says, and then his gaze flicks back to her. “I didn’t know you didn’t enjoy First Year.”

“I know you don’t care about the blood status thing. I know you’re an ---- ally. That you hate the dark arts,” Lily says, “But I don’t think you know what it’s like, James, to be muggle born.”

“I keep thinking about what you said about Avery and Jugson. Your parents.” James says, this quiet fury behind his eyes.

“I was called a Mudblood on my second day and I didn’t know what it meant,” Lily says, “I felt like a big, awkward square pole, round peg. That everyone could tell how little I knew, how little I belonged. And you ---- you were swanning around, utterly carefree, with your little band of miscreants, and I felt like I was ---- always on my own.”

“But you were friends with everyone,” James says, and there’s genuine surprise on his face. “All of the girls, Remus, some of the Hufflepuffs, Snape.”

“There’s a difference between ‘sit with in class’ and ‘I’d die for you, mates’,” Lily says, “Severus was my best friend, and he suddenly didn’t want to be seen with me in public. I felt like I was on my own,” Lily says. “I stand out because of who my parents happen to be. And then —- you feel like you have to be better than everyone else, in order to justify your inclusion in the world. And I ---- I wanted to blend in, James, to hide. And you kept thrusting me into the spotlight.”

James nods. He's looking at her. Really looking at her.

“I’m sorry, Lily.”

She nods, curt, and looks down her hands.

“I never know how I can help,” James says, quietly. Low. “Now, I mean. After Hogwarts --- that’s easier, I just. It feels so small, trying to make one Death Eater wannabe stop spitting vitriol on a twelve year old kid. I know you ---- befriend all the new muggle borns, make sure they’re equipped, and we --- we try to protect them, in the corridors. When we can.”

Lily looks up at him. She’s surprised that he’s noticed that she goes out of her way to seek out the new first years. She’s surprised to hear him speak so seriously.

“It’s not your responsibility.”

“That’s how it happens though, isn’t it?” James says, “And then you’re complicit, and I---- I won’t be. I refuse.”

Lily hums because she doesn’t know what else to say.

“And I know it’s --- - small. I know it’s probably stupid, but --- we’re going to beat them on Saturday, Lily, and we’re going to beat them with the most Muggleborn team Hogwarts has had in a decade,” James says, with this grit in his voice, this glint. “And we’re going to show them that all of their --- superiority, all of their hatred and blood purity, doesn’t mean a sodding thing. That talent is talent. And the team, they’re going to know, going to see --- that they absolutely belong, right here.”

Lily looks up at him. Her chest feels exceptionally tight. She didn’t --- it hadn’t occurred to her, but he hadn’t, hadn’t he? Built a team. If it had even registered it all, she’d have assumed it was accidental, and it’s —-

“I don’t think that’s small at all, James.”

James goes to say something, but then they hear the sound of footsteps again. Lily shuts her mouth, tight. The footsteps draw closer, then Peter Pettigrew is pulling the mirror-door open, flooding them in light. It feels very bright, incredibly exposing. Reality comes rushing back in. They’ve been talking for a long time.

“Pete, my hero.” James declares, pulling himself to his feet.

“Hello, Peter.”

“Evening,” Peter says, cheerfully. “Coast's clear.”

“Brilliant,” James says, and then he offers Lily a hand to help her climb out of the passage. She instinctively pulls herself away from him. James’ expression does something complicated -- hurt, she realises, and it congeals at the back of her throat -- but he draws away without comment. She gets a sudden wash of guilt before she pushes it back down again, because --- just because he’s apologised, acknowledged some of it, shared some actual vulnerability, it doesn’t mean she --- it doesn’t make anything she said less true. She determinedly doesn’t look at him as she grips the side of the passage to get herself free. “D’you bring the cloak? We’ve got a Prefect to protect.”

“No,”

“Those idiots aren’t still ---?”

“No,” Peter laughs, “Although, nearly caught them at ---” He cuts himself off, glances at Lily. Lily bites back a desire to smile. They both know, then, despite their continued sneaking around. She locks that one away. It’s not her place to intervene, and it’s funnier to let it all pan out. She likes the idea of them all continuing to skulk around each other and wildly try and catch each other out.

“Breaking another school rule, no doubt?” Lily substitutes.

“Exactly,” Peter says, relieved, nodding. “No, Sirius took it to go flood the second floor bathrooms.”

“Why?” Lily asks.

“Decoy,” Peter says. “Filch went running off in that direction ten minutes back.”

“So he was ---?” James begins.

“Yep,” Peter says, “Looked like he was settling in for the whole night.”

“That’s a blow,” James says, and pockets his hands.

“Oh --- Sirius wanted to know,” Pete says, “Whether you wanted him to be caught or not.”

“Hmm,” James says, “That might be helpful, I reckon. Yeah.”

“You lot,” Lily says, with a huff, folding her arm over her chest.

“Anything to protect our Quidditch Captain, Lily,” Peter says, offering a bright smirk. “And when we realised you were stuck with him, we all realised the urgency of the situation. Sirius volunteered immediately. Said someone had to save the damsel in distress before said damsel offed him, and we had to remove him from the passage in bits. ”

“Oi,” James says, and flicks him in the back of the neck.

“How did you know I ---?” Lily begins, then cuts herself off. “You know, never mind, I already know far too much about your carrying ons.”

“You’re telling me,” Peter says, and James elbows him again. Lily falls into step behind them. They have some half whispered conversation that seems to be partially in code. James keeps looking at her over his shoulder back at her, and offering what she thinks is supposed to be a smile that doesn’t land right. They reach the edge of the Gryffindor landing.

“Right, I’ll go send word to Sirius then,” Peter says, veering off to the left. Lily watches him disappear, utterly bemused.

When they step into the Common Room, there’s only a thin smattering of students awake. Remus is situated on a sofa that gives him a clear view to the portrait hole, clearly waiting for them.

“Ah good,” Remus says, “You both survived.”

Lily exhales heavily and slumps down into the seat opposite. Her conversation with Slughorn feels like it was an incredibly long time ago.

“Bed for me, I think,” James says, and he’s back to his false-joviality. He’s messing up his hair again, a crease in his brow. She’s not entirely sure where they landed. She never explicitly accepted his apology, or his overture of friendship. She isn’t entirely unsure if she even wants to. Mostly, she just knows that he seems ---- wholly more like a human being than he had done before. Real.

“I’ll wait for the others,” Remus says.

James nods, lifts his hand in a wave.

Lily makes a noise of acknowledgement as a substitute for a ‘goodnight’.

“Are you alright?” Remus asks her. He’d told her new information about Remus Lupin. Things that she might’ve been able to put together, if she’d pushed deeper into her awareness of what things must’ve been like for Remus before school. She’d expected he’d been lonely, but she’d never considered the idea of friendship being a risk. He’d suggested as much, but she hadn’t… James Potter is right. She’d been so thoroughly wrapped up with her own melodrama with Severus Snape that there’s plenty she missed.

She doesn’t really know if she’s alright. Her head feels thick with thought, and James Potter apologising, listening to her, accepting ownership over some of it and rejecting other parts. It’s almost more believable than if he’d just let her throw mud at him without challenging any of it. He’d been vulnerable. She suspects all of it had been honest.

“Lily?” Remus asks. And she doesn’t know where Remus had ever really noticed that she’d felt like an unwanted loose end for a lot of her first year at Hogwarts, and she doesn’t know quite why she can forgive him for standing by and doing nothing while they hurt her friend -- even if he rarely, actively participated -- and yet can’t forgive James, but she is entirely sure that part of the reason he stayed up is to check she was okay, and she appreciates him immensely.

It takes her a long time to summon words.

“I don’t understand,” Lily says, as she looks at her hands. “Why he likes me so much.”

“Ah,” Remus says. His face turns very blank. They have, for a long time, deliberately avoiding discussing it. They have ducked any number of things that put them on different sides. She’s no longer sure whether that was brave or cowardly. “My understanding is that --- these things are rarely logical, or comprehensible.”

Lily exhales. She bundles her hands up in her robes and looks at the fire, where it crackles and burns in the grate.

James Potter. She’s never really able to understand him. She’s been comfortable in her position of not wanting to. She doesn’t know what to do with a James Potter that triggers more than just infuriation.

Sirius and Peter arrive back twenty minutes later. Sirius is incredibly wet and handles this by throwing himself onto the other half of Remus’s sofa, plastering himself on his side, in order to successfully transfer as much dampness as possible. It's a bold move considering Peter, theoretically, still doesn’t know, but there’s a very real chance Sirius would’ve done that to anyone.

“Thank you,” Remus says, dry, wrinkling his nose. “Successful mission?”

“Mostly.” Sirius says, “Bastard gave us a double detention. Second one on Saturday. All day.”

“You’ll miss the match? You’ll break his heart.”

“Mmhm, no. I’ll skip it, he’ll just give me another.” Sirius drawls. “Or two. Whatever”

Lily stares at him with her lips thin.

“You too, Pete?” Remus asks.

“Hmmh. Thought it was best to do a thorough job of it.”

“Thank you, Sirius. Peter.”

“Anything for you, Lily,” Sirius says, and blows her a kiss.

“How much of this is toilet water?” Remus asks, grimacing slightly.

“All of it, Moony.”

“Lovely.”

“Bed,” Peter says, stretching his back out. “Lily —- ”

“Yes, I’ll make sure the version Jane hears involves you being gallant and not at all covered in toilet.”

“Brilliant. Thanks.”

“Pete,” Lily says, stopping him. “Was he being awful? Avery?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, his expression distilling into something very solemn. It doesn’t suit him. He looks uncomfortable wearing it. “He was teasing her about the unforgivable curses with his wand out. She didn’t know what he meant.”

“Suzie Unwin?”

“Yeah,” Peter nods, “The little one. Night.”

Once he’s gone, Sirius does a Common Room sweep, clearly decides the tiny first year in the corner doesn’t matter that much, and flicks his toilet-water damp hair into Remus’ face, somehow burrowing even closer into his side. Remus grimaces, but reaches out, settling with a hand on the back of his neck. The casual intimacy of it does something complicated to her chest.

“So how much of a berk did Prongs make of himself?” Sirius asks, turning to arch a brow at her. She tries to imagine him at eight, being asked to behead a house elf by his mother. It’s difficult. He’s always so Sirius, with his sometimes-vicious humor, his big presence, his big, loud laugh.

“Pads.” Remus says, and prods him in the side of his neck.

“He didn’t.” Lily says.

“Well —- shit,” Sirius says, and laughs. “Don’t tell me he’s finally worming his way in.”

“Sirius,” Remus says, sharp, “Not helpful.”

“He usually gets what he wants,” Sirius mutters, which decidedly isn’t helpful.

“I’m going to bed,” Lily says, abruptly. She leaves Remus and Sirius to their bickering, and crawls into her bed thinking of four lonely eleven year olds finding rare joy in each other, about herself at eleven, and if any of it really matters when the world continues to fall apart around them.

*

The next day, she goes to McGonagall and claims she witnessed the Avery-Unwin altercation on the way back from speaking to Slughorn and that it’s her view that Peter and Sirius shouldn’t be punished for trying to stand up for a scared twelve year old. McGonagall gives her a flat, searching look, and agrees their punishment can at least be rearranged.

Later, she finds Suzie Unwin in the common room. They have a long conversation, and then she teaches her the shield charm. By the time she’s consistently producing a solid Protego, two of her friends have joined them and they’re all laughing. She feels eyes on her, and looks up to see James watching her from across the room. He’s sandwiched in the middle of a group: Roisin, Jane and Amy alongside Peter and Sirius. She feels her skin heat up as she pointedly looks away, towards Suzie, who already looks slightly taller as she stands with her wand out.

*

They don’t speak again until the morning of the match. They’re both coming down to breakfast at a similar time, and mutually stall before they reach the Gryffindor table.

“Lily,” James says. It’s her actual name again, and it’s his normal-voice. Not his architectured look-at-me voice. “That was decent of you, to get Sirius out of his detention today.”

“Technically, Potter, I got him out of your detention.” Lily says, with her arms crossed. James’ tilts his head in consideration, attempting a smirk.

“Allright, it was decent of you to get Sirius out of my detention.”

“No one deserves punishment for protecting someone,” Lily says.

James nods, briefly.

“Yeah. Alright. Well…”

“James,” Lily says, after he’s taken a few steps away. He pauses, pivots. “Good luck today. You’ve worked exceptionally hard. You deserve the win.”

His face breaks out into a big, wide smile and he offers an incredibly stupid salute before he heads back to his group.

They win the match by a landslide.

Chapter Text

A year ago, she would’ve considered the idea that she’d be opting to spend time at James Potter’s house -- which, as has quickly become apparent, is probably better described as the Potter Estate -- during her summer holiday to be entirely absurd.

Things change.

She apparates to just beyond the boundary of the property aided by an address and a photo James had sent her. Mrs Potter --- Euphemia, or Effie as she’d quickly insisted --- greets her at the front door and then leads her out to where James, Sirius and Remus are situated in the grounds. They only have a short conversation, but the warmth radiates off her and it’s clear she knows entirely who Lily is, which would’ve made her profoundly uncomfortable even a few months ago.

It’s a relief to see them. It’s slightly strange that they’re in their summer clothes, which seem to be entirely more muggle than she generally sees them: denim and band t-shirts, Sirius looking very much like he’s attempting to embrace punk, James in actual shorts. They’ve got a picnic blanket spread over the floor, an assortment of discarded snacks and an ashtray suggesting they’ve been there awhile. She sits down in the largest space available, between Remus and James, feeling very aware that they’ve done this during many summers and that she’s the interloper to their rhythm. It feels more significant here, than it had at Hogwarts, where she’d gotten used to their groups’ coalescing.

“Evans,” Sirius says, with a nod of acknowledgement.

“Got here alright, then?”

“Yeah. Hey, thanks for --- ” Lily says, attempting some kind of smile that doesn’t land. It stutters and falls on her face.

Remus pulls her in sideways into a hug. She sways into the meat of his shoulders, then feels her resolve shake, the tears glugging up again. She doesn’t quite manage to catch them before a sob racks through her.

“---- sorry, I’m --” She begins.

“No,” Remus says, soft, serious. “Lily.”

“Hopeless.” She says, wiping furiously at her face. She hasn’t seen any of them since the funeral. From what she’d gathered in the letters she’s received from Remus, all of them have spent a lot of time at the Potter's since then. That had filled her with this awful kind of longing. The sort of loneliness she hadn’t felt since first year, or perhaps right after everything fell apart with Severus. She’d been surprised but achingly relieved when she’d received the letter from James --- the first correspondence they’d ever exchanged --- self-consciously inviting her to visit.

Always welcome, he’d written, for as long as you want.

“Nothing to apologise for.” Sirius says. His voice is serious. Grim.

“We’ve all been at it,” James says.

“I’ve been --- going mad, on my own.” Lily manages. Remus still has his arm around her. Currently, there’s a chance that it’s the only thing holding her together.

“Mhmm,” Sirius says, “Was supposed to have moved into my flat, couldn’t face it yet.”

"We're not ready for you to fly the nest anyway, Padfoot,” James says, “My Sirius, growing-up, striking out on his own.”

“Idiot,” Sirius says, but he’s smiling a bit as he chucks an empty box of chocolate frogs at his head.

“As long as you’re prepared for Monty’s tears when you do go.” James says, “He’ll blubber.”

“It’s good to see you, Lily,” Remus says, as he finally lets go with one last squeeze of his shoulder, “These two have been impossible. Nice to have someone sane to speak to.”

“Is Pete still with Jane?”

“Yes,” Sirius says, sighing.

“Her parents are still dead set on pulling her out of school.” James says.

“Like they can do anything that would be more effective than the security at Hogwarts.”

"You can’t blame families for wanting to be together,” Remus says, his voice low. “I doubt what they printed in the Prophet helped.”

“Bolloucks.” Sirius scowls.

Lily doubts most of it was bollocks. Amy, her brilliant, bold Amy, had never hidden the fact that her father was up to his neck in dodgy dealings. She’d always shrugged it off, even used it as a joke, the basis for some anecdote that would have them all laughing.

In their eulogy, they’d been described as a family of pretty criminals.

The greatest amount of column space was dedicated towards her father’s convictions for theft, violating various ministry rules and a minor assault on a Ministry Hit Wizard. Her mother had barely been granted half a sentence: ‘And his wife, muggle Keturah Fletcher, 42’. Amy had also been an afterthought. And their daughter Amy Fletcher, 17, a Gryffindor student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She was granted no list of achievements of her own. There was nothing about any of the things that made her Amy: nothing about her about her brash honesty, nothing about her thick skin, nothing about how she’d screamed herself hoarse next to Lily as she cheered Roisin and the team on in the Quidditch cup final, about her love for her friends, or music, or how she’d charm paper airplanes around the History of Magic Classroom to repeatedly fly at people who fell asleep, or about how she’d splinched herself in her apparition test and repeatedly told the story to a bunch of grim-faced first years. Lily is sure it had all been technically true but it --- it was bollocks that any of it was printed. That it had been on page fucking three, overtaken by some other news that Lily couldn’t understand mattering to anyone, when Amy, Amy was ---

Found murdered in their beds at home.

The article had been written by Grahame Lynch. Lily had experienced fully-formed, illogical rage towards Roisin for not forcing her father to add --- what? That Amy burnt through boyfriends but remained an exceptionally loyal friend? That she had once made an eleven year old Lily Evans realise that she’d been stupidly-wrapped up in her own feelings, and felt good about that realisation? That for much of her Hogwarts career she was in direct contribution with her brother for selling illicit goods to students? That she was brave and funny. That she was alive and good and so very fucking young.

It was only after she’d moved through the initial roar of rage and guilt that she’d realised one thing --- that they’d called her Amy. Not her secret, real name that she’d always insisted on hiding from them all on account of it being ‘ludicrous’. That Roisin had managed to do that much. That, even if she couldn’t change anything else, she’d protected Amy there, ensuring she was recognisable to the people who loved her.

“Have you heard from Roisin?”

“No,” Lily says, and looks down at her knees. “Not for a few weeks. She said she didn’t want to speak to anyone for a while. She’s staying with Matthew, I think.”

James nods.

“I wrote to Dung,” Sirius says. “Fat lot of good it’ll do.”

They are survived by a son, Mundungus Fletcher, 19, of no known employment.

Lily never really knew him, only through Amy.

“Did Dumbledore ---?”

“He got him off the charges.” Remus says.

“Don’t think he even cares.”

“He’d have cared if he’d had to miss the funeral,” James says, “That --- it was good of Dumbledore to step in.”

“His whole family is dead, James.” Sirius says, his voice thick and charged with electricity.

“I know, mate,” James says, not rising to it. He remains completely-level. “And it’s fucking awful, but the charges are only thing Dumbledore had the power to do anything about.”

“I’ve never not wanted to go back before. To Hogwarts.” Lily says, “But it’s --- it’ll be horrible. Not that being away is any better.”

“I’m going back early,” Remus says, glum. “Moon on the 28th. Better the shack than chained in my Dad’s basement.”

“We could ---” Sirius begins.

“No,” Remus says, firm, and settles his hand on his knee. Sirius exhales irritably. They fall into a vaguely uncomfortable quiet.

“Lily,” James says, rallying himself, appearing a little like he’s just remembered her existence. “I’m being a horrible host. Are you hungry? Thirsty? Did my Mum show you ---?”

“I’m fine, James.”

“I’ll go get some drinks,” James declares.

“I’m ---” She begins, then cuts herself off. “Okay. Thank you.”

“He still has no idea what to do with you,” Sirius says, watching James retreat with an amused smirk playing around his face. “Never thought I’d see the day when the great Lily Evans came to the Potters---”

“Sirius,” Remus says, poking him, but he’s smiling a bit too.

“It is surreal,” Lily says, and looks back up at the house. “It’s bloody huge.”

Remus laughs at that.

“What is the deal with you and our Prongs then?”

“There is no deal, Sirius,” Lily says, “We’re —- friends.”

The word doesn’t quite land right, because she’s not sure if it’s entirely true. They’re certainly closer to it than they’ve ever been before. She’s reached the stage where she’s able to push past her natural annoyance and tolerate him without losing her temper. He seems to have become able to, for the most part, stop trying to impress her so much, which makes him a great deal more likable. In the final months of Sixth Year they hadn’t had a lot of direct disagreements, but there’s still a fair amount of stilted awkwardness between them, like neither of them have quite worked out how to be around each other. They’d been uneasy around each other, and she’d still tried to avoid too much time together, but now —- she’s sat in his back garden with his friends and all of it seems very small in comparison to the fact that Amy Fletcher is gone. Things change.

“Does Prongs know that?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“The fretting over whether to invite you,” Sirius says, “What if she thinks I’m imposing on her, Sirius. I said, Prongs, she’s clearly demonstrated an ability to say no to you when she thinks you’re being a berk. Does this sound too needy, Sirius? He rewrote it three times,” Sirius says, and laughs.

“Have you not made it to your new flat at all then, Sirius?” Lily asks, pointedly.

“Half moved in,” Sirius says, “Spent a few nights. Moony helped me settle in.”

“Christ.” Remus says, pinching his brow.

Sirius laughs and pitches forward, kissing him on the cheek. Their rhythm soothes something in her. She’s missed it, missed them. The first five weeks of the summer have been some of the longest of her life.

“Where is it again?” Lily asks, like she hasn’t heard this before, and then manages to engage him in a conversation about his flat for long enough that the rest of the conversation is forgotten.

*

“Right,” James says, as he comes back out with a tray of drinks that he could’ve just as well conjured. Or, she strongly suspects, they must have a House Elf who could’ve done it. She can understand the desire to be busy though. She’s been oscillating between driving her Mum spare by attempting to take on all the housework --- in the traditional, Muggle way --- but somehow not doing it how she likes it, and feeling utterly drained and unable to do anything at all. James’ voice is hushed, but there’s some tense energy in it. “Dumbledore’s just arrived. McGonagall, too.”

Sirius goes exceptionally still. Remus stubs out his cigarette and sits up straighter.

“Does ---?” Remus begins.

“Yeah.” James says, nodding. They both look at Sirius, who looks like he’s been set in marble, except for the anger that’s radiating out of his eyes. “Wants to chat inside, mate.”

“Fine.” Sirius says, snapping himself into motion.

“Sirius,” James says, “Don’t lose your head.”

Sirius makes this bitter noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and acknowledgement.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Remus says, and his voice is very level. They’d been sitting close enough for their thighs to be touching --- she’s pleased that’s all finally out in the open with James at least, although she doesn’t know about James’ parents -- but Sirius has somehow already managed to create space between them. She’s so used to them being squashed together that it feels like some seismic gap.

“Yes, thank you for the update.” Sirius says, clipped.

James and Remus exchange a look. James sighs, his forehead furrowed as his gaze sweeps over him.

“Just --- remember what happened last time.”

“I’m unlikely to forget.” Sirius snaps, and he’s stormy and hard as he stands up and shoves his hands in his pocket.

“I’ll walk with you back up to the house,” James says. She’s expecting Sirius to throw him off, but he just makes an irritated noise and starts walking. James falls into step behind him, and she can just about hear the murmur of him trying to make conversation, Sirius’ grunting replies.

Lily watches them, then her gaze slides back to Remus. He looks decidedly unhappy.

“What was that?” Lily asks. Remus shakes his head. “Remus?”

“It’s Sirius’ thing.” Remus says, firm enough that there’d clearly be no reason for debate, even if she was inclined to fight it.

Lily nods. She picks up one of the cans of ginger beer and weighs it up in her hands. She’s surprised by the variety of muggle beverages, all of them charmed to stay cold. There’s an astounding amount of choice. Remus doesn’t even look at them. His gaze is resolutely fixed on a point in the distance, his posture tense.

“Are you okay?”

“We’ll see,” Remus says, dark. He picks up his half-smoked cigarette, re-lights it and doesn’t speak until it’s burned down to the quick. Lily sloshes the liquid round her can and feels incredibly displaced. She shouldn’t be here, but she’d felt that at home too. She doesn’t know where she wants to be, except maybe those months before the summer, where Amy was still able to laugh.

Remus is the one who breaks the silence.

“Is your sister still dating the Walrus?” He asks, not looking at her. It’s a poor effort but she appreciates it nevertheless.

“Yes,” Lily says, with a sigh, “She’s been suggesting he’s going to propose, prattling on about it like I should be impressed. Junior executive, Remus, favourite of his boss. I’ve never met him, and I’m already bored of listening to him.”

“She hasn’t bought him round yet?”

“No, not when I’ve been home.” Lily says, running her finger round the edge of the can. “I suspect she’s concerned I’d scare him off.”

Remus starts to rise to a response, but stops when he sees James emerging from the house. His jaw clicks shut. He stays entirely focused on James as he crosses back towards them, looking tired, with his disaster-hair having taken the brunt of his concern.

“Dumbledore should not be allowed to walk into your kitchen and drink tea with your Mother,” James says, sitting down heavily, much closer to Remus than he had been before, like his physical proximity could make up for Sirius’ absence. “Not out of any of the proper crockery, either, he’s got that novelty mug Sirius got me from Camden ---”

Lily still finds watching how they all interact to be sort of fascinating, and this is a new iteration of it: James attempting to gently-bother Remus out of his head by this inoffensive stream, humour-filled stream of consciousness about not very much. It’s surprisingly effective.

“You put that mug in your parent’s kitchen?”

“Not that one,” James says, “Nooo, that’s under my bed, where it shall remain for all of time. That --- ‘Keep on Truckin’ Mug. Offered McGonagall the ‘Flower Power’ one, but she declined, and then Mum gave me a bit of a look that rather suggested I should piss off.”

“You’re lucky he didn’t want a pint.” Remus says.

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that pint glass.”

“Do you really want to look Dumbledore in the eye in a few weeks, knowing you’ve sat and watched him drink out of a glass with a naked mermaid ---”

“To be fair,” James counters, “Mermaids aren’t known for being well dressed. Muggles ones, anyway. Always swimming about in their underwear, which I’m relatively sure is offensive to the mermish people. Why is that, Lily?”

“Absolutey no idea, James.”

“Preverted bunch, muggles.”

“I’m not the one with the naked mermaid glass.”

“Pete bought it for me, see,” James carries on. “Some sorry shop in Blackpool, and Sirius thought it was a bit dull, so he charmed it so that ---”

“Similar to that portrait of the mermaid in the Prefect’s Bathroom," Remus says, meeting her eye. “If that mermaid communicated in entirely lewd gestures. And was topless.”

“You keep that in your parent’s kitchen?”

“My Dad thought it was funny,” James says, “Said Sirius did a lovely job with the charm work. And now my Mum makes a point to drink out of it to make Sirius and me squirm. Very disarming, watching her giving you the eye while Mum’s working her way through her stout.”

“Peter is renowned for terrible gift giving.” Remus says.

“Absolutely horrible at it,” James agrees, grinning. “What was it that he got you, last year?”

“A stapler in the shape of a dog.”

“That’s it,” James grins, “Didn’t even know what one was. Still not really sure I see the point.”

“It’s more useful if you don’t use parchment,” Lily says, “Why did he ---?”

“No explanation is ever given, Lily,” James says, “He gives off the impression of having --- gone out of his way to walk into the most bizarre shop he can find, blindfold himself, spun round on the spot until he’s chaotically dizzy, and purchase the first thing he falls into. I am also the proud owner of a glittery ash tray, a dictionary of common Gobbledgook phrases and a game of novelty Cluedo.”

“It’s become traditional to try and transfigure them into something even worse.”

“Of course,” Lily says. “What did you do to the stapler?”

“It tries to staple your fingers together if you don’t pet it and tell it it’s a good boy.” Remus deadpans, but in a way that indicates he’s fighting back the desire to smile. “Sirius’ spellwork.”

“The dictionary insults you if you try and read it,” James says, “And will only shut up if you ask it nicely, in Gobblegook, which is unfortunate because this git,” James says, indicating Remus, “Charmed it before I had a chance to read any of the phrases, so now whenever I accidentally knock into in my trunk it starts yelling at me.”

“In German,” Remus adds.

“Obviously,” Lily nods, and sweeps her gaze over them. She drops her voice lower. “So. Dumbledore and McGonagall don’t drop by your parents' home often?”

“Not usually,” James says, and he glances back over at the house. “Once, last summer.”

“James,” Remus says, a warning in his voice.

“It’s all right, I asked,” James says, “He said he didn’t care. The headlines, at least.”

“He isn’t in the headspace to make that decision.” Remus says, his voice curt, “Or he’d do it himself.”

“Look, if it’s Sirius’ business, then ---” Lily begins.

“He said she had a right to ---”

“-- it can wait,” Remus says, pointed, “Until he’s back.”

“Moony.”

“I’m out of cigarettes.” Remus says, his voice hard and harsh. He stands up, stalks off back to the house.

“Merlin,” James mutters, more to himself, “What a mess.”

“James,”

“Sorry, Lily,” He says, following Remus’ progress back across the grounds. “We weren’t expecting him today. We thought he might —- well. Later.”

*

Remus returns before Sirius, having slid back into being amiable and deliberately light hearted in a way that’s entirely unbelievable. Neither of them push him on it.

When Sirius does emerge, he doesn’t come back over to them. Instead, he stalks round the edge of the house towards what looks to be a garage. James and Remus have some silent, incomprehensible stand off that Lily doesn’t really understand but seems to hit upon a few nerves, before Remus says ‘you deal with it.’ James nods, and heads off after him. Lily’s about to launch into another attempt at coaxing Remus into talking about his feelings — something she had very little success with over the years —- when Mrs Potter comes out and says that Dumbledore wants to speak to her.

*

After, Lily finds them out on the Potter’s patio. Their conflict — if they had been having one, Lily isn’t entirely sure — seems to have been dispatched. They’ve moved onto beers and there’s talk of a barbeque but no commitment to it. Lily accepts the beer James offers her, slotting herself in the middle of their line.

“Do you remember my cousin?” Sirius asks. His gaze is fixed on the cigarette he’s smoking, but Lily can tell the question is being directed her way. It is a glorious bright early-evening. She’s found the dichotomy between the beautiful summer weather and her grief to be continually disorienting, but the summer seems to suit the Potter Estate. The view is beautiful.

“Vaguely --- I think,” Lily nods, “She was dating that Slytherin prefect.”

“Malfoy,” Sirius nods, “Another petri dish of hatred and inbreeding. They’re married, now. If he isn’t a Death Eater by now I’d eat my hat. Of course, he has some respectable Ministry job and money, which means he’s probably untouchable. My other cousins…. Andromeda, one of the only one of that lot that will still speak to me. Another black sheep. She, like me, was disowned. Married a muggleborn, Ted Tonks. Decent bloke. And then —- there’s Bellatrix.” He pauses for long enough to take another drag on his cigarette. He is still resolutely not looking in her direction. “Lestrange, now. Last year, she —- strongly indicated to me that she’d participated in that riot in Kettering. Three muggles were killed. Andrew, Barbara and Emma Colt. An ordinary middle class couple and their daughter. She was six.”

“I remember it.” Lily says. Sirius nods, his throat bobs. He sucks in a tight breath.

“My parents… fed up with what they considered imprudent, youthful rebellions — as in not regurgitating their purist bile, demonstrating sympathy for muggles, my house pride for anything disconnected to their filth—- decided that a bit of muggle bashing might straighten me out. They sent Bellatrix to escort me on an outing. When I refused, they licensed her to —- give me a lesson in family loyalty.”

She can tell he means something awful from the dark timber of his voice, but she can’t quite tell what. Her gaze is stuck on the side of his face. She’s used to him being mid-joke, but his expression currently is a long way away from humour. It looks like any trace of it has been surgically removed.

“The cruciatus curse.” Remus says, his voice is flat, but there’s a fury underneath it. She glances over at him, standing on Sirius’ other side. He’s picking at the label of his beer with an unreadable expression.

Torture. Andrew, Barbara and Emma Colt. Sirius---

“Her speciality,” Sirius says, and he stubs his cigarette out. He crushes the rest of it under his foot. He still doesn’t look at her. She doesn’t blame him. There’s an edge to the slope of his shoulders. “My parents have always been hateful cunts, but they’ve never had the stomach for the kind of cruelty Bellatrix seems to thrive on. I doubt they have it in them.”

“It’s not like they hadn’t done plenty of other damage, Sirius.” James says, his expression serious, quiet.

“Well, my mother always did know her way round a jinx,” Sirius says, “Weaponized humiliation. Mad old bat. Anyway, there was a disagreement. Then they locked me up for a bit, then there was a further disagreement, and I ran away.”

“Not a minute too soon.” James says, and grips hold of his shoulder, tight.

“Turned up here,” Sirius says, “In relatively poor shape.”

“Bleeding all over the place.” James says, “Ruined the living room carpet.”

“Two days later, Dumbledore showed up. I told him what I knew, which was virtually nothing. And he —- suggested I might be of more help if it didn’t —- burn those bridges too soon.”

“What?” Lily asks, glancing between them.

“He wants an informant.” James says. His voice is very level.

Lily feels quite a lot like all her internal organs have been vacuumed out of her chest. Dumbly, a part of her brain is saying ‘this is serious’ like that’s profound information, but it yoyos through her head. She is not used to associating these three teenage boys with anything serious. They’re profoundly, purposefully silly. They charm pint glasses and play pranks and make jokes, and at home Sirius Black has been tortured and---

“That’s —— incredibly dangerous.”

“Yes.” Sirius says, “It’s not like I wouldn’t do it, it’s just it wouldn’t work.”

There’s enough compacted frustration in his voice that Lily really believes that he would do it. That he actually wants to. He’s in motion, now. Frustratedly pushing up his sleeves, turning away from where he’d been looking out at the grounds to look up to over the house.

“I’ve been cut off. She blasted me off the family tree, they wouldn’t tell me anything. Not without proof. Not without ——“

“Padfoot.”

“I know how her mind works. She’d have me mutilate a dentist in front of her before she let me anywhere near any kind of helpful information, and I’ve —— I’ve proven that I can’t. Can’t stand and watch it. I’m too rash, too— ”

“—- sane,” James says, “Decent. Not a total lunatic.”

“If I had the capacity to stand by and watch it I wouldn't've made my life so sodding difficult. She wouldn’t’ve nearly got as many shots in.”

“Excactly,” James says, “Unfortunately, Padfoot, you’re too bloody decent for your own good. Made of completely different stuff, which we’re all --- awfully glad about.”

“He wanted to know if I’d changed my mind,” Sirius says, dark. "If I'd heard from any of them. I told him I’d do any reckless, suicidally stupid thing he wanted from me for the cause, as long as I didn’t involve sucking up to Bellatrix, because it would be —— pointless.”

“You did the right thing, Pads.”

“You’d be a horrible spy.” James says.

“Yes,” Sirius says, “I reminded McGonagall of her assessment of my ability to exercise self-control. I don’t think she was impressed with —- any of it. Dumbledore even speaking to me. Think she demanded to be present out of some --- misplaced desire to protect me.”

“Mum and Dad are pissed.” James says. “He shouldn’t’ve asked.”

“Sign of the times,” Sirius says, grim. And then he looks down at his hands. “I told him to try Regulus.” Sirius says, staring out over the grounds. That wins a hushed, expectant pause. This, apparently, is new information. The rest she suspects had already been covered while she was absent, along with a discussion of how much he wanted to share.

“Sirius.”

“I’ve never been able to get through to him,” Sirius says, frustrated.

“He could get killed.”

“Better, is it, to live a murderer?” Sirius says, bitter.

“You don’t know what he’ll ---- ”

“When I refused to go, she took him instead. Fifteen. Eight muggles ended up hospitalized that night and I didn’t —-”

“Sirius,”

“So there you go —- Lily, the rest of the freak show.” Sirius says. He finally looks at her for a moment, his expression set, awaiting her reaction. Expecting a rejection, or at least some emotion. It feels, strangely, like a test.

“I think, for once, I want a cigarette,” Lily says.

“Right you are, Lily,” Sirius says, and proffers the packet to her. She accepts it, allowing Sirius to do his normal snap-trick to light it. She inhales a lungful of nicotine and tries to shape her thoughts into something that makes sense. Of all of it, the thing that still feels sharpest and thorniest is the pain he must’ve felt. How fucking horrible it must be to grow up in the midst of it, to be expected to, to --- the cruciatus curse. Muggle bashing. Her previous knowledge that he’d been disowned seems to have turned technicolour, vivid in its sheer realness. And this is Sirius, who she’s known since she was eleven, but only really began to know in the last six months.

“Sorry, Sirius.”

“It is what it is.”

“Shit.” Lily substitutes.

“Yes,” Sirius agrees. “Absolutely. So. What was your secret meeting about?”

“Nothing nearly as exciting or mysterious,” Lily says, as she taps the ash off the end of her cigarette and brings it back up to her mouth. “They wanted to speak to me about being Head Girl, and given I was here….”

“Your majesty.” Sirius says, with a mock bow.

“He —- acknowledged that it was likely to put a target on my back, and asked if I wanted to accept the risk. Nothing’s changed, there.” Lily says, “So. Prepare for a crackdown on your rule breaking, boys.”

Sirius laughs, a little too bright and loud.

“I’m not worried. You’ve always had a soft spot for us.”

“No, I haven’t.” Lily says, pointed.

“She really hasn’t.” Remus agrees.

“Ah. On that topic,” James says, looking rueful and a bit awkward. “Dumbledore —- grabbed me before I came out. And, well, the old man appears to have lost it a bit, not that he hasn’t always been mental, but he ——” James says, pauses, “He has really gone barmy.”

It clicks for Sirius first.

“He didn’t.” Sirius says, staring at him.

“Started rabbiting on about Quidditch, something about —- being Captain being a valid qualifier, despite —”

James Potter, Head Boy.

Sirius starts laughing. A big, deep belly laugh.

“Prongs has gone all respectable. Oh, brilliant. That’s the best thing I’ve heard in weeks. Can’t believe the mad gits didn’t learn from the Remus experiment.”

“I have been a very committed Prefect,” Remus says, smirking into his cigarette.

“You’ve been horrible,” Lily says, “Completely horrible.”

“Congratulations, James.” Remus says.

“You didn’t accept?”

“Well. You can’t really say no, can you?”

“What did Effie say?” Sirius asks, eager, “Oh, this is --- hysterical. James Potter, Head Tosser. Pete’s going to wet himself.”

“Thanks for the encouragement, mate.” James says.

“Looks like you two will be spending a lot of time together.” Sirius says, and then practically doubles over with laughter.

James looks at her in a way that’s somewhere between sheepish and wary.

A year ago, this probably would’ve been her worst nightmare. As it is, she’s still… bemused by it. She can’t quite wrap her head around the idea of James Potter being considered responsible, despite how seriously he’d committed to Quidditch. He still hexes people’s heads to grow in size and spends half of his life messing up his sodding hair. He still runs around the castle with his mad-mates under an invisibility cloak, doing god knows what.

He has grown up a lot.

He’d spoken to Roisin about getting her father to write up their Quidditch Cup victory in the Prophet. He’d attended the game. Muggleborns beat pureblood rivals. He’d asked the permission of each member of the squad before their names had been printed, and they’d all said they were proud to stand up and be counted. It had been the most positive article about Muggleborns written in months.

He had then got incredibly drunk at the victory party, and Sirius had turned his head into a pineapple. They’d created a game that involved drinking a large number of shots, and bewitched a giant feather duster to sporadically poke people in the back.

He is certainly not the perfect choice but… he had invited her here to give her a respite from being alone in her grief, and he’s looking at her with this unobtrusive apologetic expectation.

“Better you than Avery,” Lily says, which is probably still too harsh of an assessment. She’d rather Peeves made Head Boy than Avery. “Or Stebbins. And Remus, you are useless.”

“Ta,” Remus says.

“And --- Buckthorn’s an idiot,” Lily says, tilting her head. “You’ll do, Potter.”

“Might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Evans.” James says, and offers her a grin.

*

At the point that she’s making noises about how she should leave, despite having absolutely no desire to do so, they persuade her to stay the night. There’s talk of a ‘traditional Bonfire’ and Pete arriving tomorrow -- and she really does want to see if Peter’s okay, having become unexpectedly fond of him -- but mostly she just doesn’t feel ready to go home yet and be around people who don’t understand the cosmic event that’s happened. People that have never met Amy Fletcher and don’t understand what a horrible loss it was. ‘It’s no trouble. Mum already had the room made up for Remus, before Sirius sensitively and delicately informed her of the alternative arrangements’ James says, and then Effie assures her the same, and --- despite her initial hesitancy about the whole thing that had her only originally committing to the afternoon-- she really does want to stay. Her parents have been worried enough about her that she thinks she really ought to speak to them properly before staying the night at some unknown male school mate’s home and, of course, the Potters don’t have a phone. She considers sending word with an owl, or just apparating back and forth, but in the end she ends up walking into the local village to use the phone box with James Potter.

It’s rare that they’ve ended up alone. The reasoning did make sense. He actually knows the way and there’d been a bit of a suggestion that Remus and Sirius needed to have some kind of conversation that she couldn’t argue with because, despite being the only one who knew about it officially for months, she still couldn't really say she understands how the intricacies of their relationship works. She’d felt surprisingly neutral about the circumstance, considering how persistently she’d avoided it for a long time.

“James,” Lily says, as they trudge down the path. “Has it always been really awful for Sirius, at home?”

“Yeah,” James nods, slightly grim-faced. “He doesn’t talk about it much, but ——— yeah. They’re real pieces of work, his parents. Regulus might be alright. Just a kid, really, and he——- Sirius reckons he’s just trying to survive it, that he doesn’t —- really believe in it.”

“It’s hard. If you’ve grown up around it.” Lily says.

“Well. Sirius still turned out decent.”

“I’m not letting them off, I’m just saying ——- it’s hard.”

“Yeah,” James says, “I know Sirius is a bit of a miracle. He just —- he convinces himself sometimes that he’s still tainted with it all and I —” James ruffles his hair up, fixing his gaze on the path. “He was really fucked up when he turned up last summer.”

“It’s —- awful.”

“Wish he’d left sooner,” James says, “Every summer Mum would try and say anytime, Sirius, always welcome, second son, but he —— well, you’ve seen how he gets. All hard edges. Brooding. Vicious. We’d have to …. Defrost him after every holiday, pull him out of his head, distract him from whatever horrible thing she said to him, really fucking awful stuff and —— well. They’ve always hurt him a bit. Not like last summer, but more than anyone should tolerate from their parents. Or anyone, really, but it’s --- worse from your parents.”

“Severus’ father —— he used to drink. They’d have these awful fights and he —— sometimes he’d have these bruises on his wrists, and he’d never tell me where they were from, but I always knew.” Lily says, “His mum’s a witch, but she’d never use magic at home, really. She was scared of him, wrapped up in it, and I think —- I think he was convinced if she’d married a wizard, too, he’d be safe, that all of it would’ve been better.” Lily says. “I know I made allowances for a long time, but he —— well, he didn’t have an easy life. He doesn’t, still.”

“Some people shouldn’t be parents.” James says.

“No.”

“What are your parents like?”

“They’re lovely,” Lily says, as they walk. “They don’t know what to do with all this, really. Magic. But they’re happy for me, it’s just —— hard for them to understand. I think my Mum —- it’s easier for her to relate to Tuney’s world. Petunia, my sister. But she tries. They both do.”

James nods.

“Your parents seem —-great.” Lily continues.

“Yeah,” James nods, “They’re brilliant. My Dad —- he’ll want to talk to you properly later. I told him how good you are at Potions,” He says, and there’s this pinkness that creeps onto his face. She’s not really sure what to do with the fact that James has spoken about her with his parents. His mother had suggested the same and it’s…. Slightly unsettling, exposing, so she barrels past it.

“You’re perfectly good at potions yourself, James.”

“I can follow the instructions, but it’s something else to be able to —— tweak. Invent.”

“My understanding is that there’s usually something brewing in your bathroom. That seems inventive.”

James laughs at that.

“Well that’s just convenience, Lily. We thought about doing it in one of the passages, but you never know how many people actually know about them,” James says, “And we all have our potions needs.”

“I’m sure,” Lily says, and folds her arms, arches a brow at him. “Sickening solution, was it?”

“You always know everything.”

“I doubt I know the half of it, James, the way you lot go about.”

“Well, renegades are allowed their secrets, aren’t they?”

“So it seems,” Lily says.

“What do you want to do after Hogwarts?” James asks, and it’s an abrupt enough change in direction that she looks over and takes in the side of his face.

“Well, what I actually wanted to do is be a Healer, but --- I write to Alice Fortescue. Well, Alice Longbottom, now. She’s always honest with me. She got some contacts and she reckons they’re unlikely to take any Muggleborns into Healer training in the current climate. I’ll apply, but I’m not holding my breath. So --- Slughorn’s put me in contact with a few Apothecaries. They’re targeting private businesses who seem sympathetic to the cause, but --- I hope I’ll be able to find someone brave enough. Resolute enough in their beliefs to employ me.”

“It’s so --- stupid that you have to think about this stuff,” James says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “When you’re one of the smartest people I know.”

“It is,” Lily agrees, not acknowledging the compliment. “But --- that’s the world.”

“My dad might know some people,” James says, his brow slightly furrowed. “Some more connections, if Slugger’s don’t pan out.”

“That would be helpful,” Lily says, “Thank you. What about you? Quidditch?”

“Maybe,” James says, “If the world wasn’t --- what it is, then yeah. But. I don’t know if I could live with it if I wasn’t helping. Need to do something useful, you know? ”

“A bit,” Lily says, “I’m a political statement just by existing, so it’s a --- it’s a slightly alien concept to be involved in this war by choice. Either I give it all up and turn my back on it, or I have to --- be involved.”

“Would you?”

“Give it up? Go Muggle?” Lily asks. “No. It’s part of me, James. I know --- I know Mary’s considering it. She’s been asking about the typing course my sister took. Secretarial work, with her Herbology skill — it's just a shame.”

“You could pretend to be a Weasley,” James says, “You’ve got the hair for it, and I bet they wouldn’t mind.”

Lily laughs.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“I didn’t think so either.” James says, as they draw up to the phone box. “Right, I’ll just --- pop to the shop while you…” he gestures at the phone box, then hesitates. “What muggle alcohol do you like, Lily?”

Lily’s thoughts catch for a moment.

“James. Did you buy all those Muggle drinks for me?”

“Well,” James says, and he looks slightly nervous. Awkward. “Remus wasn’t sure what you liked.”

Ridiculous, sweet, overblown. Very James Potter.

“I don’t mind, James. Rum. Wine. Cider,” Lily says, “It’s been a long summer. Anything wet.”

James nods and offers her a salute before he trudges past.

She’s not expecting the phone call to be an emotional experience, but she finishes the call feeling teary and raw.

James is waiting for her outside of the phone box with a plastic bag full of bottles and an unsure expression.

“Sorry,” Lily mutters, rubbing her face, “She’s just --- worried. I didn’t --- I haven’t told them about the war. I suppose I’ll have to at some point, but I didn’t want them to panic. And they’re --- muggles don’t come of age til their eighteen so they could --- if they decided to stop me from coming back, I really should listen. So I just told them that my friend was killed in some freak accident and they don’t --- - ” She cuts herself off, another tear tracking down her face. “Oh god, Amy.”

“Lily,” James says, and then he --- steps forward and pulls her into a hug. They have definitely, absolutely, never hugged before. He’s --- he’s incredibly solid. Tall. She’s felt incredibly small since she received that horrible letter from Roisin and the shock of it took her breath away. And he’s ----

“Did Sirius’ cousin ---?” Lily begins, the question she hadn’t dared ask earlier.

“Dumbledore said,” James begins, and he’s squeezing her arm tight. She steps back and faces him. “That they’d probably --- got caught in the cross hairs. That they’d used him, her Dad, for something -- getting some illegal goods, trafficking something. That they didn’t --- they weren’t his followers. You know Amy wouldn’t’ve believed in any of that, anyway, but --- they probably knew something. His --- guess was that her Dad tried to use that information as leverage, and that he had them all killed to teach them a lesson. But --- it could’ve been her, Bellatrix, yeah. I don’t think we’ll ever know.”

“Sirius didn’t have a choice about whether to be involved in this either, did he?”

“Not really,” James says, grim. “Not a true, proper choice.”

“And Remus…” Lily trails off, leaves the rest of it hanging. James nods. Lily sucks in a sharp breath and sets them back off walking the way they came, because if she stops too long it might overtake her.

“Wars don’t last forever, Lily.”

It already feels like it’s lasted half of her life, and she joined it late. That feels too miserable to say, though, so she pockets her hands.

“What did you buy?” She asks.

“Oh,” James says, “Bit of everything, really.”

“The first time I ever drank,” Lily begins, and manages to steer them off in a lighter direction.

*

James pauses before they cross back through the gate to the Potters, interrupting their conversation about nothing to really look at her for a moment. He restarts walking before to speaks.

“Lily,” James says, “Are we --- are we friends?” Lily feels this heat creeping up the back of her neck at the directness of the question and she doesn’t really have an answer. She swallows thickly and looks straight ahead. “I just --- it feels like you’re less ---- aggravated by my existence, but...”

“James,” Lily says, “I’m staying at your house.”

“Yeah,” James agrees, “But there’s --- circumstances. And Remus and Sirius are here. And I wouldn’t be upset with you for that. Of course not. I just --- I wasn’t sure, if we were. Friends. We never really ---”

There’s been a distinct change since that conversation in the passage. Or maybe, things had already begun to shift, and that’s just when Lily caught up with the change in behaviour: that James had actually been putting in great efforts not to antagonise her.

“I appreciate that you’ve stopped… asking me out all the time. That you —- listened.”

“Well, I really --- I know I should’ve, but I really didn’t know that it ----”

“ --- I know you didn’t,” Lily says. “I heard you.”

“I can,” James begins, “I can write to Dumbledore and say I won’t do the Head Boy thing if you --- if you don’t want me to.”

“You’ve earned it.”

“I’m not sure I have.”

“Well, me neither to be honest,” Lily says, which wins her a laugh. “Look ---- James. I ---” She cuts herself off, because she’s not sure why she’s fighting it anymore. They’ve spent the day sitting in the sun together at his house; they’ve consumed a barbeque and a few beers; they’ve had a perfectly pleasant conversation; she’s very aware that James is well-intentioned and good under all his occasional thoughtlessness. “Yes, we’re friends.”

“Oh,” James says, “Great.”

His earnestness has her face heating up. She smiles a little bit at the floor. Watches their feet fall into rhythm on the path.

“I do still want to go out with you. Just, for the record.”

“James.”’

“I’m not asking you anything, or expecting anything, I just —- thought you should know that it’s — unlikely to change.”

“You really don’t know that.”

“My Dad said he only fell in love once,” James shrugs, “I’m intending to be the same.”

The implication has her feeling very hot. For everything that James has said to her over the years, he’s never used that word. She has absolutely no idea what to do with it.

“That’s —- very sweet of your Dad.”

“Well, then my Mum always winks and says he’s not talking about her,” James says, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, again, so—— I won’t bring it up again. I just —- in case you thought I’d changed my mind. I haven’t.”

They’ve reached the edge of the garden now.

“Okay.” Lily says, for want of anything else to stay.

“Okay.” James nods, then holds his bag of drinks aloft and calls ‘supplies!’ across to Sirius and Remus.

*

It’s an incredibly pleasant evening.

The Potters join them for half the bonfire, and she does indeed have a long conversation with James’ Dad about potions, and his Mum does indeed drink a pint of stout out of a glass adorning a very vulgar, underdressed mermaid. It’s fascinating watching the easy way they all interact, their obvious warmth and shared jokes. Given everything she’s found out today, she likes seeing Sirius submit to being mothered: that fact that Effie calls them all ‘dear’, that she looks all soft around the mouth when she takes in Sirius-and-Remus’ proximity and backwards-flirting, that when she declares it’s late enough that they should both to go to bed (Monty having already fallen asleep in his chair forty minutes previously), she makes a point of kissing all three of on the forehead. It’s lovely seeing Sirius so relaxed, getting a glimpse of Remus’ slightly-pleased-embarassment at being included --- he’s never said it, but she knows he misses his mother desperately -- to see James stand up to help her up to her feet and walking them both back to the house. He'd warned her, but they are much older than she'd expected, and James seems to instinctively look after them a bit. James’ parents somehow have the ability to make them all seem quite respectable.

The illusion doesn’t quite last. James comes back from the house with another bottle of rum and after that it’s slightly more raucous: a heated debate about Quidditch; a discussion about the relative merits of making Sirius’ motorbike fly; Hogwarts stories, some of which she’s already heard and some of which are new. They stumble into one that stars Amy Fletcher in the leading role, getting hauled over to be searched by Filch with twenty packets of cigarettes hidden in the secret pocket in her robes and Sirius feigning collapsing to distract him. It’s horribly sad but lovely to talk about her, and she laughs at the pinnacle of the story -- Remus, concluding Sirius’ acting abilities weren’t up to scratch, actually hexing him, while Peter divested her of the contraband -- and then she launches in with of her Amy-stories and they talk and talk about Amy until the bonfire’s dying down and Lily’s tearful and happy and light-headed from drinking too much.

The next morning, they eat breakfast out on the Potter’s patio. It still feels entirely surreal to be drinking her morning coffee across from James, who's in another pair of muggle-shorts and whose hair seems particularly ridiculous right after he's woken up. He starts on about how the best hangover cure known to man is two-asside Quidditch, which no one remotely agrees with, but somehow they end up getting pulled into it anyway. There’s something about his relentless determination and positivity that’s hard not to get swept up in, especially when all their emotions are still feeling raw. She thinks they’re all grateful to have someone pulling them forward, directing them to something.

It is, surprisingly, fun.

They only stop the game when Peter arrives.

His face is red and blotchy from crying.

“She broke it off with me,” Peter says, “She’s not coming back to Hogwarts. Moving away.”

“Oh, Pete,” James says, and then he pulls him into a long, tight hug. Peter sags into his chest. James firmly has hold of his shoulder and he talks with a calm, easy reassurance. “We’ve got you, mate. We’ve got you.”

There's something protective and confident in the way that he approaches it. Once, James had told her that he'd do absolutely anything for his mates, that he was always a-little-bit-thinking about them, and she believes it. There's no posturing or bravado in this. This James Potter earnestly trying to be there for someone he cares about.

It hits her, out of nowhere, that she’s actually glad that James Potter is going to be Head Boy.

*

Cokeworth feels very quiet on her return.

She writes Roisin another letter that she doesn’t send, reminding herself of the request she’d made to ‘hibernate from everyone’. She does write to Jane, who affirms that her parents have decided to uproot them all and move abroad. Once upon a time, they’d all -- Amy, Rosin, Jane and her -- made plans to descend on London for a week in August, making the most of their ‘last summer before real life’, but they’d never finalised the details before --- before it happened.

She gets under her Mum’s feet as she tries to help with the laundry. She reminds her Mum that Petunia doesn’t want to talk to her when she offers her the phone after her daily phone call. She sits with her Dad as he reads The Mirror. She starts to read a book and abandons it, because there’s a character who reminds her a little of Amy and it makes her heart sick. She goes for long walks that purposefully avoids the park and the memories of Severus, because she feels quite sure if she ran into him currently she’d tear him apart.

She passes time.

Three days later, she’s curled up on the sofa with her cat, the TV turned on to block out some of the noise in her head when her Mum rouses her with a shrewd, amused expression.

“Lily, there’s some —- boys on the phone for you,” She says. She hands her the phone with a question in her brow, and purposefully hovers next to her as she takes it from her.

“Hello?”

“Morning, Lily,” Sirius drawls.

She’d known from ‘boys’ and the look on her Mum’s face, but it’s still profoundly strange to hear Sirius’ voice while she’s standing in her parent’s hallway.

“Hi Sirius,” Lily deadpans, leaning back against the wall. Once, a long time ago, she had given Remus her phone number. It was on the train home for the summer right after his mother died, and he’d been quietly dreading it in that Remus way where he’d never said it out loud. Lily had forced it on him and told him she was there any time. He had never used it, although he had written her two measly letters that Summer. She is thoroughly surprised by the fact that, unless they’ve been calling directory enquiries, he kept it.

“Hi, Lily.” James pipes up, and his voice is curiously --- far away. Muffled. Squashed, even.

“We’re at the phone box,” Peter says. He sounds much more cheerful than when Lily had said goodbye to them. They must’ve done something to rally him. She suspects whatever it was was profoundly ludicrous.

“Are you all in there?” Lily demands, a smile already beginning to take hold of her face. There’s a bit of rustling. A snatch of words she doesn’t quite catch.

“Moony says no,” Sirius says, “He’s stood outside with a fag. He’s got that quietly amused look on, that one where it looks like he’s just holding back an off-colour joke, but like he’s trying to project that he disapproves of the lot of us, thinks we’re ridiculous, artfully smoking with his —”

“Yes, yes, we all think Moony’s sexy. That’s not really the point of all this.”

“I don’t, actually, not my type.”

“You should be so lucky, Pete.”

“Quite right, Sirius, our Remus is a catch, if you’re into that sort of thing. Which I’m not, personally, but to each man his own—-”

“What is the point of all of this?” Lily asks, pointedly. Her Mum is still watching, curious.

“Oh right,” James says, “Sirius, gives us the ----”

“No, Prongs, you’ll only fuck it up, make an arse of yourself ---”

“Oi, Padfoot I’m --- get your elbow out of my ---”

“Ouch. That’s my foot, you gangly git --”

“Oh, hell,”

“Generally,” Lily says, dry. “People use phone boxes one at a time.”

“Right,” Peter says, clearer this time, seemingly having won hold of the receiver. “We’re going to the beach, Lily. And we wondered ---”

“I wondered,” Sirius says, distantly. “My idea.”

“--- if you would like to come?”

“Yes,” Lily says, before the question has really permeated through to her thoughts. Despite the fact that she's been asked by three pureblood idiots squashed into a phone box. Despite the fact that, if her Mum’s expression is anything to go by, she’ll have to offer a long explanation. Despite the fact that, a year ago, she’d have said it was her worst nightmare. Despite James Potter very much suggesting he didn’t just fancy her, but was in love with her. “Just tell me when and where.”

Chapter Text

The first thing she becomes aware of is that Sirius Black is determined that there’s something she needs to see.

His voice is clipped and adamant. He isn’t yelling exactly, but there’s this deadly fury in his tone. He doesn’t sound at all like the boy who’d once dared Peter Pettigrew to shove a whole chocolate frog in his mouth and then try and cast an enlargement charm. He’s angry. Determined.

She has to see it, Professor. She has to know.

She is in pain. It feels somewhat like something has tried to slice her into two.

She’d ---

She’d been walking back from the library. She didn’t really have any reason to be there, but she’d taken to doing anything that put off the moment that she had to go back to the dormitory which felt like an empty black hole without Jane and without Amy. Roisin had been avoiding it with such commitment that Lily had only seen glimpses of her, and Lily was sure some nights she wasn’t coming back at all. The other girls had been trying incredibly hard to be kind to her, to include her, and to share in her grief, but it only seemed to expose the big wound in her chest. So, she’d been avoiding it. She’d been rushing back from the library just before curfew and ---

Sirius is arguing with Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall. Her head is thick enough that most of what they’re saying feels like it’s happening on a different plane of existence. She can’t ascribe meaning to the individual words, to follow the conversation, but she becomes slowly, dimly aware of the facts: that she is in the hospital wing, that Sirius Black is refusing to leave, that McGonagall is angry; that she is in pain.

Mr Black, please, Miss Evans will be distressed enough without ---

--- You can’t protect her! You’ve shown that. Dumbledore demonstrated that when he did this, put a big arrow on her back, asking someone to ---

Mr Black, I know you’re upset ---

--- Upset? I’m not upset, I’m fucking ---

She’d been in the library. Given it was only the second week of term, she hadn’t had much homework yet. She’d just been attempting to whittle away the rest of the evening. She hadn’t wanted to go to bed. She’d left later than she should’ve done. She’d just opened the entrance to one of the passages Remus had shown her that served as a short cut back up to the Gryffindor landing, and there’d been a noise. She’d paused, turned around ---

She’d heard something. When she’d turned around, there’d been a flash, a searing awful pain and then ---

I’m not going anywhere. Not until she’s awake. She has to --- they left her there, Professor. They just left her bleeding and -- and I won’t let you sanitise this, she has to know, see it --- I knew something like this would happen, I knew it—-

She’d checked out a book on Magical Theory that she was intending to read when she got back to the common room, because she still wasn’t ready to sleep. Whenever she tried to go to bed, the grief would press in so thickly that she stopped being able to breathe. She’d been thinking about whether any of the others might’ve been awake. She was aware that she’d been purposefully secluding herself for the last week and suddenly, abruptly wanted to stop. She wanted to surround herself in company and laughter and loud boys who could conjure chaos out of thin air, because all the space in her life was beginning to feel suffocating. She was hoping that Remus might still be awake. Or Sirius, Sirius ---

Mr Black, I understand you’re unhappy with me --

--Dumbledore --

And I promise that I will hear all of what I am sure are fair criticisms of my decisions. But first --- what happened?

It had been Thursday night. She’d been dreading the weekend. She hadn’t wanted to go back to her dormitory yet. Amy’s absence felt too horrible to tolerate. It was so entirely all consuming, so she’d stayed later than she should’ve done, which is why she was going to use the passage. It was the second week of term. And then --- there’d been that flash of light, and then the pain, and then she’d ---

She has to see it, Professor. She has to know.

*

She wakes up with her throat raspy and hoarse. It’s dark. Dumbledore and McGonagall are gone, but Sirius is still sitting by her bed side. He looks stony, his posture ramrod straight on the chair next to her. There’s blood all over his shirt and tie that she understands to be her own. She’s vaguely aware of Madam Pomfrey moving about somewhere in the distance.

“Sirius,” she says. She tries to grasp hold of his arm and pull herself up, but her body is heavy and uncooperative. He rises, gently reaching out to support her, help her. “Sirius, show me---”

He conjures up a mirror and presses it into left hand, and then he guides it into the right place for her to see. There’s bandages across her neck and her collarbone. Lots of them, already bloody. She tries to lift her right hand to pull them away to see what’s underneath, but she can’t. Her arms aren’t working. They’re too weak. She’s already sweating from the effort and the pain is making her woozy.

“Sirius,” She says, again, desperate. He reaches forward and starts peels off the gauze for her, his hair temporarily shielding her view of her skin in the mirror, but then he pulls back and she sees it, seared across her skin: stretching from both collarbones like a perverse, bloodied necklace, each letter still bleeding fresh blood.

Mudblood Bitch.

“Oh,” Lily says, and shuts her eyes. Her grip on the mirror Sirius gave her slackens. The effort of holding it now feels insurmountable. “Not very original,” She manages, then passes out again.

*

When she wakes again, she feels stronger.

McGonagall and Dumbledore are back and a weak early morning light is creeping through the windows. Sirius is still here, now asleep on the plastic chair next to her, or at least pretending to be relatively convincingly. There’s new bandages on her chest. She tells them what little she knows, which doesn’t amount to much. Whoever did it attacked her from behind. McGonagall tells her that Sirius bought her in just before midnight, that he found her passed out in that passage opposite the library, that they are determined they will find the culprit and there will be consequences, that the curse used to cut the words into her skin is angry enough that it might scar her for life, although Pomfrey is doing her best and is confident she can minimize the damage, so that they might just be marks and not words. Other than that, they’d used a complex, nasty combination of hexes that contributed to how awful she likely currently feels, but in a few days she’ll be fine. It’s likely that Sirius finding her so quickly saved from significant permanent damage. They are all disgusted that such a thing could happen at Hogwarts. She can tell that’s true, because she’s never heard such tightly controlled anger from them.

After they’ve gone, she whispers ‘how did you find me?’ to Sirius, but he continues to pretend to be asleep. Pomfrey fosters three potions on her: one that tastes warm and metallic, the second is woody and spicy and the final of nothing at all. She tries to ask more questions, but one of the potions makes her head thick and slow, and she falls back into sleep before she can manage any more words.

*

The next time she wakes, it’s morning, and her visitors have changed. Remus has replaced Sirius on the plastic chair, a hand on her arm, just above her wrist. Peter is sitting in another plastic chair, curled up in a ball and hugging his knees, looking very small and very young. The third chair is empty, with a Gryffindor tie hung over the back of it. James is pacing at the foot of the bed, his footsteps relentless. It doesn’t look like any of them have slept.

Lily manages to turn her arm over, just for a moment, take hold of Remus’ hand and squeeze it.

“Lily,” Remus says, and then he’s dragging his chair closer. James abruptly stops his pacing. Peter unravels himself.

“Morning.” She manages.

“Barely,” James says, rushing back to his seat. His face is grey and ashen, his hair messier than she’s ever seen it but he, seemingly unable to help himself, wrestles his expression into a smile. “What time do you call this, Evans? At this rate you’ll have us missing our breakfast.”

“We came as soon as we were allowed.” Remus says, his voice quiet and steady. There’s questions she should ask about that, like how they always seem to know everything, how Sirius came to find her, why any of this is happening, why any of this happened to her.

“Where’s ---?”

“Pomfrey sent him to get washed up.”

“She’s used to having to chuck him out of the Hospital Wing,” James says, “Bit of a lifetime occupation. We should ---”

“I’ll go,” Peter says, scrabbling up and then heading towards Pomfrey’s office.

“You gave us a scare, Lily.” Remus says.

“Sorry about that,” Lily says, as she tries to pull herself up. It still hurts but whatever last batch of potions Pomfrey had given her seems to have made a significant improvement. The movement pulls at the cuts across her chest, making them sting. She swears softly. James is up and pressing a glass of water into her hands.

“Always said going to the library was bad for your health,” James says, which is completely stupid but, somehow, still, unbelievably, makes her smile.

*

An argument breaks out when they try to stop her from leaving the Hospital Wing.

“Absolutely not,” Lily says, sitting on the edge of her bed. She’d already pulled on her robes, which had caused no small amount of pain. “This is my education, this is my school -- they have clearly tried to communicate their feelings about that, but I will not be driven out of my classes ---”

“Miss Evans,” McGonagall says, her lips very thin, “You’re hurt.”

“I won’t let them win, Professor. Not even for a day --- I won’t be invisible.”

“Absolutely fucking right,” Sirius agrees, his voice low and angry.

“They --- left me there.”

“And we will catch whoever perpetuated ---”

“--- No you won’t, Professor, and even if you do, --- it’s not just one bad actor, it doesn’t matter —”

“Lily,” Remus says, his voice low, “One day won’t ---”

“They left me there to rot,” Lily says, her voice hot and angry, “They left me, and that means this morning they’ll be looking out for me, and if I’m not there ----- I don’t want to give them one second of thinking that they won ----they don’t deserve a moment of victory---”

“You’re bleeding,” James says, “Lily, they really hurt you. Cursed that ---awful --- ”

“So?” Lily demands, “I will not be ashamed of my blood. I don’t care. Let them see I’m hurt. If there was a way of wearing my school uniform that showed what they’d done, I’d walk right into the Great Hall right now with it on display. I’d make them all look at it. Let them have the shame. Let them be ashamed of what cowardly, small-minded parasites they are --- let them know that I will not be defeated by some --- slur that they think lessens me. I am a Mudblood Bitch, and this is every fucking inch my school. My world. I am not giving up a single minute of it.” Lily says, “Professor. There are Muggleborn students who have been part of this world, this war, for two weeks. I am the most prominent Muggleborn in the school. I don’t want ---they can’t see me defeated ---”

“Fine,” Professor McGonagall says. She’s vibrating with this surly rage. “If you are determined ---”

Lily’s already pushing herself off the edge of the bed. Her left leg, which she hadn’t registered had taken the brunt of one of the things they’d hit her with until she’d tried to get dressed, sags under her weight. She grabs hold of the bed post.

“Professor,” James says, his face torn up with worry, “She can’t walk.”

“James Potter,” Lily says, turning around. “Do not dare try to ---”

“Lily,”

“Crutches,” Lily says, “Give me crutches. I’ve used them before, I can---”

“I have a better idea,” Sirius says, and holds out his arm. “At your service, m’lady.”

“Brilliant,” Lily says, and slumps against it. He instinctively grips hold of her. He’s solid, steady, quietly furious. She hasn’t yet had an opportunity to thank him. Not just for finding her, but for how he’s shown up for her since: this undercurrent of respect, his refusing to leave her side, his demands that she be told the truth and taken seriously. She hasn’t seen this side of Sirius before.

“This is most unusual,” Madam Pomfrey says, fretting, “After an injury like this, I really should insist that ---”

“It’s precisely because it’s an injury like this,” Lily says. “Sirius ---”

“She’s right,” Sirius says. James lets out this spluttering noise of displeasure.

“Professor, Poppy,” Remus says, “Between us, we’re in every single one of Lily’s classes, we can --- ensure her safety.”

“And when she needs the bathroom?”

“One of the girls will help me,” Lily says, “Mary. Cass. Roisin. I promise I won’t let myself end up alone. I’ll be careful.”

“And after class, we can bring her straight back here ---” Remus says.

“Yes,” Lily agrees, “And then it’s the weekend, and you can fuss over me as much as you like, but ---”

“You will come back here at lunch to be reassessed,” McGonagall says, standing up.

“We’ll make sure of it,” Remus says.

“And if anything in her condition changes ---”

“Yes,” Sirius agrees.

“Fine,” McGonagall says, “Then I will see you in Transfiguration.”

“Fantastic.” Lily says, and slumps more against Sirius’ side.

*

In the end, it takes an arm from both Sirius and Peter to help her navigate to breakfast (both chosen for being a much more helpful height), which she insists upon because it is entirely public. It’s practically finished, with some students having already drifted out, but there’s a silence that falls when she walks in, defiant, with her held high, Remus and James walking behind them.

She feels eyes on her from all directions. Clearly, something of the news has travelled, although she doesn’t know quite what. Those who were about to leave hesitate, dawdling in their route out to the Entrance Hall.

They Marauders are precisely the people to do this with.

They’ve always been very good at being the centre of attention.

Sirius makes a big show of conjuring her up and an ornate silk pillow and setting it on the bench before he helps her sit down.

“Your seat, Evans.”

“Why thank you, Sirius.” Lily says, and sits down with as much dignity as she’s possible to achieve on a bench, when every movement pulls at the bandages under her robes.

“Coffee!” Peter calls, loudly, “The Head Girl requires coffee.”

“Thank you, Peter.” Lily says, biting back a smile as he scurries back over with a full pot.

“That mug won’t do for our girl,” James declares, and transfigures the cup she’s picking up into a jewel-encrusted goblet. “Right then everyone, who's got the best of the bacon? We need the absolute best bit of bacon, for the most astonishing Lily Evans. Did you know she received six Outstanding O.W.L.s?”

“Wasn’t it seven, Lily?” Remus asks, conversationally.

“Seven,” Lily agrees, “And two Es.”

“My mistake,” James says, “I was thinking of Sirius.”

“Easy to confuse us, on account of us both being astoundingly good looking,” Sirius agrees. “Where’s that bacon? Pass it down, Gubbins, there’s a good lad.”

They are so ridiculous. Brilliant. It makes it easy to throw back her head and laugh, loudly, so that whatever bastard mutilated her skin can hear it.

*

Of course, them being them, they commit to it all day.

*

By the time they’re on her way to double-potions at the end of the day, she’s beginning to struggle. The adrenaline is beginning to wear off, and she’s now operating on sheer determination and grit. She doesn’t mention it, but they must be able to tell from the way her walking slows down, the unevenness of her breath. It’s just three of them now, as neither Remus or Peter took Potions after O.W.L.s.

“Right,” James says, stopping them in the corridor. “Lily. Stop a minute.”

She’s expecting him to attempt to talk her back to the hospital wing. He’d swallowed back how clearly unhappy he was with all of it for the rest of the day, but there’s an edge to his hazel gaze. He’s worried. He’s pissed-off. He’s going to attempt to try and be all chivalrous and protect her and Lily’s already close enough to the edge that it’s going to drive her mad. She’s preparing herself to get into a fight with him, but he surprises her.

“You're --- in pain and we’re never going to get anywhere like this. Let me help.”

“Okay,” Lily says, not really sure what he’s agreeing to; and then he scoops her up, bridal style, a hand under her knees, one under her shoulders. Instinctive, she loops a hand around his neck. She feels a rush of heat crawl up her face at their sudden proximity, the fact that he’s solid and strong. Steady.

“There,” James says, and sets off walking down the corridor, carrying her. It probably isn’t the most dignified, but she’s exhausted and it’s —-much easier. She doesn’t have it in her protest, so she doesn’t. And there are some advantages to the idiots being so profoundly popular. It’s a different statement altogether to be carried around by privileged, smart, pureblood, Quidditch Captain James Potter.

“Sirius,” James instructs, after he’s carried her into the potions classroom, the same eyes and whispers following them that had all day. Sirius bows, the overdramatic prat, and then pulls out a chair. James sets her down gently. Sirius presents her with her bag that he’d been carrying with a flourish. “Right then, Lily. Anything else you need? Potion ingredients?”

“Not at the moment, thank you James, Sirius.” Lily says, prim, with as much superiority as she can pack into her voice. She can feel Severus’ eyes on her. She determinedly, absolutely stays looking at the front of the class.

They’re fifteen minutes into Slughorn’s treatise on the properties of Gurdyroot when Remus Lupin knocks on the door to the potions classroom.

“Afternoon Professor,” He says, pleasantly.

“Mr Lupin,” Slughorn says, cutting himself off. “I don’t remember you being part of my Seventh Year N.E.W.T. class.”

“Ah, that would be on account of me being rubbish at brewing.” Remus says.

“I wouldn’t say --- rubbish, my lad, but ---”

“I would,” Sirius pipes up, “Utterly shite.”

“Thank you, Sirius.” Remus says, in that same pleasant tone.

“Then what brings you here today?”

“Ah, yes,” Remus says, utterly shamelessly, “I’m here with a delivery for Lily Evans, actually. I thought she might like a refreshment.” He lifts up his wands and conjures up a tray containing a glass of pumpkin juice and a small plate of ginger cake. She can hear several sniggers from her peers. “Ice cold, Lily, as you like it.”

“Thank you,” Lily says, biting back her desire to smirk. They’re all so ridiculous and charming. Lovely.

Slughorn looks between them for a moment, caught between incredulity and something else, then seems to decide that he finds it funny. They’re lucky he likes her so much, although Lily suspects they’d been counting on it.

“Well,” Slughorn says, “Go ahead my boy.”

“Excellent,” Remus says, and then delivers the tray to her desk. “Laced with pain-killing potion.” He adds, quietly. Then he offers Slughorn a salute and leaves.

It’s decidedly strange to be outwardly, flagrantly eating in class, but she commits to it anyway. Her potion is in the same ornate goblet James had conjured earlier, and she sips it with exaggerated poise. The idiots had bought her a cake fork along with it, so she uses that too. Both help revive her a great deal. The pain numbing the persistent aching in her leg, the sugar lessening how exhausted she’d started to feel.

Slughorn approaches her once they’ve started the practical.

“My dear girl,” Slughorn says, approaching her work station with his voice quiet. “I heard --- such awful business.”

“Yes,” Lily agrees, loudly. “It’s amazing what some people are brave enough to do when people have their back turned. Cowards.”

“Unspeakable, I never heard of such a --- I understand it might, scarring ---”

“That’s what Pomfrey said.”

“The second I heard, I started brewing. A certain solution of my own creation . It might not --- it might help.”

“Don’t worry Professor,” Lily says, her voice crisp and loud. “I’d rather be scarred for life than be purist, evil, scum. James,” Lily calls, “Please could you come chop up my Valerian root? It’s hurting my arm a bit.”

“Absolutely, Lily.” James says, abandoning his station to approach her desk.

Towards the end of the double period, the initial relief from the pain killing potion starts to fade and, to her disappointment, the spell Pomfrey had used to hold her skin together wears off. She can feel herself waning, the dizziness descending .

“Professor,” Lily says, in that same loud voice that draws attention, “It seems I’ve started bleeding again.” Her shirt is wet with it, the blood leaking through in such a way that, momentarily, you can see the outline of the letters until they run away, bleed together. “So I think —- “

“Yes,” Slughorn says, urgent. “Yes, my dear — - please— ”

“James,” Lily says, and he’s already up on his feet, crossing the room. He helps her to her feet. When she looks up, she sees Snape gaze on her, his eyes fixed on the blood spreading across her shirt. There’s a gratifying horror in his expression. At this exact moment, she thinks he might hate him. As usual, it doesn’t last, and in the next breath it’s bubbled back into sadness.

She lets the pain overtake her once they’re out in the corridor. She slumps against the side of the wall, breathing heavily. The potions fumes have made her feel woozy, light headed. She feels entirely, completely awful. There’s a chance she took her desire to make a point too far, but there’s no denying that she’s made it. Shoved it down their throats.

“Right,” James says, looking at her with dismay, “I think I’d better ---”

“Yes,” Lily agrees, and lets James scoop her up again. She is quite sure she is otherwise entirely unable to move. She grips hold of the back of James Potter’s robes and shuts her eyes as James starts walking. He’s warm. Solid.

“You are completely bloody mental,” James says, his voice quiet and slightly-stern. “Fucking brilliant, but totally — completely mental.”

“Thank you,” Lily says. James snorts. He huffs. “You’re strong.”

“Quidditch,” James says, “And you are suffering from profound blood loss.”

“Cake fork,” Lily says, and starts laughing.

“Lily,” James says, his voice poised, “You’ve made your point. You were right --- brilliant. But can you please --- stop now? I don’t like --- seeing you hurt.” James says, and the words are punchy, drawn out. He really, really means it.

“Okay,” Lily agrees, then passes out.

*

Sirius comes to see her on his own after dinner.

She had a string of visitors, not all of whom she was conscious for, -- and, notably, not Roisin, which had made her feel incredibly tired and sad -- their performance apparently having been successful in drawing together a united front of angry, determined students from all years and houses. She’s received a smattering of cards, most of which have absorbed the reverent, over-the-top tone the twits had used all day: to our esteemed Lily Evans; to the Majestic Head Girl; to Our Girl. Mary bought a bag of her things down from the dormitory and breathed that it was the bravest thing she’d ever seen.

In all of it, the person she actually wanted to talk to was Sirius.

He doesn’t start how she expects him to.

“My brother knows something,” Sirius says, his voice hard and cold as ice. He kicks the chair leg to push it back from the bed, then sits down, grim.

“Oh,” Lily says, and stares at him. His expression is set.

“I’ll make him talk.”

“Don’t,” Lily says. She reaches for his arm.

“Evans ---”

“---Sirius,” Lily says, quiet, “Even if it was him, which I doubt… they’re dangerous. You’d get him in trouble in some direction --- either with Dumbledore or with someone much worse. Leave it be. He’s better off in school, safe, where Dumbledore can try and speak to him about what you said over the summer. You don’t want --- you don’t want to hold yourself responsible if it all goes wrong.”

“I’ve chosen my side.” Sirius says, dark.

“I know that.” Lily says, squeezing his arm tight, so that her fingernails dig into his skin. “Sirius, I know. I know you’re absolutely nothing like them. You’ve proven that. But… I have an annoying, awful sister too.”

Sirius nods. His throat bobs.

“What happened?”

“I was --- I was sneaking out to get some booze. James noticed you hadn’t come back to the tower and sent word, so I doubled back.” Sirius says, his voice low and dark. “They’d shoved you down that passage, unconscious, with your shirt ripped open, covered in blood. Those bastards. I --- carried you to the Hospital Wing. Got Peeves to send the alarm to McGonagall. They --- she wanted to heal it before you ever saw it, said that you didn’t need to know what they’d done, I --- turns out she couldn’t, anyway, that they’d... Lily.” Sirius says. “I’m so --- ”

She cuts him off before his apology makes it out of his mouth. She doesn’t want it.

“Thank you.” Lily says, her voice tight. He shakes his head, unable to accept it. “How did you find me?”

“Where else would I look for a Goody Two Shoes Head Girl but near the library?” Sirius says. “Remus knew that’s where you’d headed.” He says, waving this off. It doesn’t fully make sense, she hadn’t told Remus anything but she supposed he might have guessed, although it seems unlikely, but he’s already barrelling forward. “Evans, you were incredible today. Fucking brilliant. Remind me never to piss you off, because you’re bloody terrifying.”

“I think,” Lily says, with a smirk, “I’ve been trying to warn you about pissing me off for most of my life.”

Sirius laughs and launches into retelling the exact shade of puce Jugson-Junior had gone when half of the hall, led by Sirius, had given her a standing ovation at lunch.

*

After a lot of rest, a lot more visitors and a number of potions they release her properly on Sunday morning feeling much better.

On Sunday evening, she’s sitting in the Common Room with Mary and a couple of the Sixth Year girls when Remus emerges from the stairway to the boy’s dormitory.

“Lily,” Remus says, mild, “Can we borrow you for a moment?”

She nods, follows him upstairs to their dormitory. She’s been in there a handful of times now and, as ever, there’s the distinct smell and sound of something unknown brewing in the bathroom. Otherwise, it’s only suspicious because they’re all there, where she presumes they’ve been for half the sodding day, because after haunting her bedside for days they’d suddenly disappeared on her when she’d finally been allowed freedom, leaving her stewing on her loneliness and a fair bit of insecurity.

They’ve left space for her to sit on Remus’ bed which is strangely generous. She sits, looks over at them warily.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Much, thank you Pete,” Lily says, glancing between them. “What are you lot up to?”

“So suspicious,” James says.

“Doesn’t trust us at all.” Sirius comments, dryly.

“I wonder why that would be?” Lily asks with an arched eyebrow.

“It’s a mystery,” Remus agrees.

“Lily,” James says, and he starts nervously ruffling his hair. “We wanted --- after what happened. We all, well.”

“It was horrible,” Pete says.

“Well, quite,” James agrees, and his hands hovers towards his pocket, then stalls again. “And we thought ---”

“Spit it out, Prongs, we’re dying here.”

“You see,” James carries on, “We have --- this.”

He approaches where she’s sitting on the edge of Remus’ bed and pulls out a piece of parchment, sets it down in front of her. Lily stares at it for a moment, non-plussed. Then James pulls out his wand and taps it.

“I solemnly swear I’m up to no good,” He says and then ---

And then the parchment reveals itself.

Lily picks it up, slowly. It is beautiful. She recognises both Remus’ and Sirius’ handwriting, the sweep of ink on parchment. Hogwarts. It takes her a few moments to take in that parts of it are moving: a flight of stairs currently in the process of changing; a dot labelled Dumbledore pacing in his office and then her gaze falls on herself, sat next to a dot labelled James Potter. A number of things fall into place: that bizarre over-confidence about moving around the castle; half a dozen conversational slip-ups; their seeming ability to always know exactly where each other were.

“You found me on here,” Lily says, glancing up to meet Sirius’ eye.

“Bit of an organisational hiccup. Normally we split up the map and the cloak --- ”

“--- Unless you’re two prats trying to hide that you’re shagging.” James puts in. “When you run off with both like selfish tossers.”

“ --- but Filch has been a git lately so I had both,” Sirius says, “Or we might’ve gotten to you sooner. I’m --- sorry about that, Evans. My fault.”

“Don’t be daft,” Lily says, “If you hadn’t ---”

“If we’d been sure you were hurt, we’d have just risked it but--”

“I know, Pete,” Lily says, picking up the map and staring at it. Then she looks up at Remus. “You --- when you were sneaking around, and you just wanted me to sit vaguely near you?”

“Yes,” Remus agrees.

Lily shakes her head, a smile beginning to pull up at the corners of her mouth.

“You don’t think these things through when you come up with the idea,” Sirius says, “Bloody inconvenient, Lily.”

“Well, you could’ve just told us in the first place,” James says.

“The --- the passage,” Lily says, looking up at him. “That’s why you were sure they’d rescue us---?”

“Yep.”

“You made this.” Lily says, weighing it up in her hands. “This is incredible.”

“Bit of a long term project.” Remus says.

“You,” Lily says, and stares up at all of them again. “You lot, all of you, created all of this ---?”

“It’s the tone of surprise,” Sirius says, “Insulting, really.”

“That’s because I’ve seen you lose interest in a class during the register, Sirius.”

“Well, it’s always the same, isn’t it?”

“Sirius is --- surprisingly focused when adequately motivated.” Remus says, then seems to regret his choice of words when Sirius waggles his eyebrows at him and makes a suggestive gesture. Remus shoves him in the arm and rolls his eyes. “It was actually your idea, Lily. You said back in first year that they should give you a map.”

“It’s unplottable.”

“Externally,” Sirius says, “And Remus did a clever bit of wandwork which meant ---”

“-- there’s a secret passage there?”

“We’ve lost her, lads.”

“Cassie and Bertram Aubrey?” Lily says, holding it up. “That is --- unbelievable.”

“Gossip. She jumps straight to gossip.”

“You --- went and discovered all of this?”

“We started that bit in first year,” James says, “Didn’t get it properly functional until the end of fifth. Getting the Homonculous Charm to work ---”

“The Homonculous charm --?”

“ --- and then it only worked on Tuesdays, until ---”

“ --- and of course, we kept discovering new passages.”

“ -- on that, I’m sure that portrait of the angry Goblin on the third floor is hiding something.”

“--- we’re not going there again, Prongs, last time he followed you round for a month.”

“-- the point is, Lily,” Remus says, “We want to lend it to you.”

“To protect yourself.” James says.

She sets it down.

“Boys,” Lily begins.

“We know you can protect yourself, alright?” James says, quickly, “But if these bastards are going to send curses at your back, then —-”

“— we know Avery threatened you.”

“He’s been threatening me for years, it doesn’t mean anything.” Lily says.

“But now you are being cursed in corridors,” James says. He’d somehow ended up very close to her after he’d bought over the map, and Lily feels suddenly, viscerally aware of how he’d carried her three flights of stairs to the Hospital Wing, and spent a very long time sat by her bed. “Lily,” James says, this anxiousness in his voice, and then he goes to ruffle up his bloody hair again and she ---

She reaches out and grabs his arm to stop him.

“Will you ever leave it alone?” Lily hisses. James slams his jaw shut, looks at her with something between sheer-confusion and panic. She feels her face heat up. She’s very aware that the other three are also looking at her, awaiting her reaction. She clears her throat. “No.” Lily says, and tries to hand it back to him. “No, I can’t.”

“Lily,” James says, “We’d really --- like to.”

“Well. What about Mary MacDonald?” Lily says, “What if next week Mulciber attacks her, again, and I have this map, and she gets branded—— ”

“Well she — maybe you’d see her on the map, and you’d rescue her.”

Another thought occurs to her.

“Sirius, did you see---?”

“No,” Sirius says, his voice turning grim. “No. Everyone was already in bed by the time I looked, or --- miles away. I have no idea.”

“But if someone was monitoring it, then you would’ve --- you’d have proof.”

“Lily,” Remus says.

“You could protect someone with this,” Lily says, “Everyone. You’d just need ---”

“No one else can see it,” James says, quickly, rushed. “Lily.”

“What?” Lily asks, her head snapping up. “James.”

“It’s ours, alright? We need it.”

“You need it.” Lily says, her voice turning icy.

“You don’t want every idiot knowing how to escape to Hogsmeade," Sirius says, “It isn’t safe.”

“That’s not your reason.” Lily says, hard. She narrows her eyes at James.

“You kept the cloak a secret.” Sirius says, pointed, sour.

“This isn’t just some clever toy you’ve invented to ---- break into Slughorn’s supplies and smuggle in booze, people are getting hurt, this it ---”

“No,” James says, his voice clipped and hard, and already he’s pulling it out of her hands. “No one else sees it.”

She becomes suddenly aware that she isn't used to James saying no to her. Or any of them, anymore. She’d felt, in some way, part of their unit. Over the last few months, she’s become accustomed to them including her, not closing ranks, the four of them and their little club forcing the rest of the world out. She seeks out some reason from Remus’ direction, but he’s looking down at his hands, resolutely avoiding her gaze, ashamed, that way he always used to do when she’d try and stop them terrorizing Snape. She feels a big swell of feeling churn up in her stomach: disappointment, rejection, fury.

Of course, she thinks as she stands up, of course.

“Fine,” Lily spits out, acidically, and walks out.

“Well,” She hears Sirius say as she slams the door shut behind her, “That went well.”

*

Because Lily put together the patrolling schedules with some vague notion of being able to kill two birds with one stone --- speaking to James about Head Boy / Girl duties is actually a logistical nightmare between Quidditch and everything else -- and before she re-remembered that James Potter is a complete idiot, she only gets to avoid him for twenty four hours. She’s tired, she’s fed up and every time she moves her skin hurts. She’d put on a united-front for the sake of the Prefect’s Meeting and then been thoroughly disappointed that it was the two of them down to wander round the castle for hours.

She’s had possibly the worst two weeks of her life. She’s exhausted and angry and fed up, and James Potter is ----

Aggravating.

“I --- I just can’t, Lily,” James says.

“You can’t only care about protecting me, and not everyone else ---” Lily says, storming forward.

“That isn’t,” James says, irritated, falling into step with her, “What I said. Of course I care, I just ---”

“If not it’s the same thing it always is,” Lily says, her arms folded over her chest, “Except now I’ve been indoctrinated into your little club, which makes me just as bad as your ---- groupies.”

“Alright, well, Sirius will absolutely love being called a groupie.”

“No,” Lily says, “I’m not being won over by you making some stupid joke.”

“You are in danger specifically, Lily.”

“I knew that when I said I’d take on the job,” Lily says, “And it’s not just me, James. It’s all your defiant muggleborn Quidditch team with their picture in the Prophet ---”

“ --- I asked them and they ---”

“Just like Dumbledore asked me,”

“Yes, and then someone --- cursed you in the corridor.”

“And I am fine.”

“Lily, please.” James says, “You’re not --- fine. Be reasonable.” Lily stops in the middle of the corridor to glare at him. “Alright, okay, maybe reasonable wasn’t a good word. I just ---”

“James,” Lily says, icily, “I am having a very bad return to school. I am not in the mood for you to ---”

“Well, you were ignoring us, again, and I --”

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” Lily says, and there’s tears pressing behind her eyes now, “My friend is dead, James. She was murdered, and my other friend is avoiding me and --- I am trying to process.”

“I know, Lily,” James says, and his voice is brimming with this entirely maddening compassion, “I didn’t mean like ---- I just meant,” James says, and he tries to grab her arm to get her to stop walking again. She whirls around to face him. “When Sirius saw you were in the passage on your own, at first we thought you might just --- be wanting time on your own. To process. It’s only when you didn’t move for ages, that we thought ---”

“And how did you even have this conversation if Sirius was down some passage? Or is that another mad Marauder secret?”

“Two way mirror,” James says, “No secret.”

Lily exhales a ragged breath.

“So you’ve just been spying on me on your creepy map.”

“No,” James says, and his face heats up. “No, I just --- I notice you, alright? And I noticed you hadn’t come to back to the Common Room.”

“James.” Lily says, “I have been mutilated. I’m in pain. I’m not --- in the mood.”

“We just wanted to protect you.”

“Yes,” Lily says, “Me, specifically, because you’re still ---”

“I want to protect everyone but that’s entirely out of my control. But you --- you I can do something about, if you’d let me ---”

“Let you,” Lily growls, “Let you.”

“I know you’re fearsome, Lily, that doesn’t mean ---”

“If you wanted to protect them you’d just hand it over to public ownership, to all the decent Prefects, and we could monitor everyone. If you wanted to protect someone, then you’d ---”

“I am protecting someone.” James says, and his face is flushed.

Lily makes an irritated noise at the back of her throat and keeps walking.

“Yourself and your little escapades,” Lily says, “It’s fine to care about this war, about Muggleborns, until it stops James Potter from having fun —- ”

“Lily,” James hisses, and then he glances around and pulls her into an alcove and drops his voice. “Remus.” He says, with a hiss. “I’m trying to protect Remus.”

That draws her up short. It feels similar to being doused over the head with a bucket of cold water. Of course. Of course. A big glut of shame balloons in her chest. She’s not being fair. On one level, she’s known that she hasn’t been fair, but everything is so --- awful. Horrible. Difficult.

“Look,” James says, his voice quieter, lower. “It’s —- it presents too many questions. I can’t, Lily, his life —-“

“Then give it to Dumbledore.” Lily says, “He knows. He can at least use it to see where everyone is.”

“I —- I can’t,” James says. “It’s complicated. There’s —- other things Dumbledore doesn’t know, and —- I —-”

“So you are still protecting yourself?”

“Yes,” James says, “I am. Alright? But that’s part of protecting Remus too. I promise.”

Lily exhales and shoves her hands in her pockets. She looks away.

“I thought being friends might mean you stopped trying to think the worst of me at every opportunity,” James says and, shit, he’s actually upset. She’s upset him, and he’s been --- great. All of them have been. They’d saved parts of her this summer. She’d been so hideously relieved when she’d found them on the train and been able to fold herself into their ranks, desperately clinging onto something. And then she had secluded herself from them, hiding in the library, blowing him off when he’d tried to speak to her after the Prefect’s meeting. She had been avoiding him, in the way that she’s been avoiding everyone, exactly like Roisin has been avoiding everyone, and ---

None of this is his fault.

Lily drags her gaze back to him. His eyes are burrowing into her skin.

“And I thought being friends might mean you stopped keeping all these endless bloody secrets.”

“Ah. I definitely never promised no secrets,” James says, and tries out one of his smiles on her. It’s more effective than it should be. “Lily. Could you --- trust me. Maybe?”

“Okay,” Lily says. She swallows thickly.

“Okay,” James says, nodding. It seems like he wasn’t expecting her to agree. “Okay.” He says again, then he’s self-consciously ruffling up his bloody hair, taking a step back.

“Lets just,” Lily says, “Finish this patrol.”

“Lily,” James says, after they’ve paced through another two corridors in silence. “I’m sorry you’re dealing with all of this. You’re --- incredible. Amazing.”

“I don’t feel like being amazing, James,” Lily says, folding her arms over her chest again to keep herself upright, “I feel like getting into bed with my cat and a very large bar of chocolate and having a very long cry.”

“Reckon that’s fair enough,” James says, nodding. “Look --- I can’t help with the cat part, but --- we could do this patrol … from afar,” James says, and he pulls out a piece of parchment from his pocket that she now knows to be the map. He taps it. “And I can definitely steal some of Remus’ chocolate supply and I’m only slightly afraid of girls crying, so.”

“We were supposed to --- talk about next months’ schedules.” Lily says.

“I’ll sort them,” James says.

“You’ll …” Lily says, looking up at him.

“Yep,” James says, “Leave it with me, Lily.”

She looks away.

“It’s fine, I can do it.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” James says, “Just that you didn’t have to.”

They'd been yelling at each other not very long ago. She’s very tired.

“Okay,” Lily says. Her voice comes out small. James doesn’t comment on it. He just nods and sets them a path back to the Common Room.

There’s not many people still up when they get back. James steers her into one of the best seats by the fire, largely out of view. He disappears, briefly, and turns back up with a bar of Honeydukes chocolate, a copy of last month’s prefect’s schedules and some parchment.

“Didn’t even have to steal it,” James says, as he hands her the chocolate, “Donated to a good cause.”

James unlocks the map and sets it between them. She scans the dorms and the Common Rooms, her gaze seeking out all the individuals she’d consider vulnerable: tiny Suzie Unwin, Kumar Anand, Emma Lakin, Robert Thomas, most of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Mary MacDonald. Herself, sitting very close to one James Potter.

He steadily, quietly works through the prefect schedules with one eye on the map. She eats her chocolate. Wilberforth even does jump up onto her lap and begin to purr.

“Everyone’s in bed,” Lily says, after some time has passed.

“Might have to join them soon,” James says, through a yawn. “Training in the morning.”

“Thanks, James. We’re --- you can go. We’d have finished by now anyway.”

“These ---- sorted. Check them if you want,” James says, holding up another set of Perfect Schedules.

“No, no, I’ll --- I’m sure they’re great.”

James looks around, then says ‘Mischief managed’ to the map. It wipes itself clean. He gathers up the rest of his things, stretches. Lily holds it out to him.

“You keep it for a few days,” James says, with his hands in his pockets.

Lily blinks up at him.

“I told you I wanted to give this to Dumbledore,” Lily says, quiet.

“And then,” James says, “You said you'd trust me. I’m trusting you back.”

“Oh,” Lily says, slightly dumb.

Lily stares at him as he retreats. He stalls, turns back around to face her.

“Just don’t tell Pete,” James says. “He’d have kittens. Try get some sleep at some point, yeah? Night, Lily.”

Chapter Text

The Marauder’s Map is probably one of the most impressive magical objects she’s seen in real life. Now she’s weighing it up in her hands, she can feel the magic wreaking out of it; the spark of potential, the hum of it. There’s layers of it. Since she's had it in her possession, she’s been trying to work out how it all pieces together. She’s identified four different charms so far, all of them woven together: they’d mentioned the Homonculous charm, but there’s several layers of protective charms, the password protection, something special in the ink -- she finds herself bringing it up to her nose and sniffing it, and she’s quite, quite sure they must’ve diluted it with some kind of potion -- some spell or other which gives it personality. She tries writing on it when it’s wiped clean, and actually laughs when it writes back in their handwriting: Messer Prongs would like to inform Miss Evans that she has incredibly nice hair; Messer Padfoot would like to highlight that it isn’t as nice as his, Messer Moony thinks both of them should shut up and leave Miss Evans in peace. She’s read about how extraordinary magical objects are usually so remarkable because of the power of their creators and the provenance of their creation, but she’s not sure she’s ever read about co-creators. Collaboration. It’s the way it’s layered with all four of their different magics; their creativity; this spirit of friendship. She’s learned a lot of secrets about them over the years, but this one throws a lot of information into sharp relief: they’re more committed than she’d given them credit for, more adventurous, more creative, smarter.

And yet, despite all of that, the main thing that she has been obsessing over is that dot that says ‘Roisin Lynch’.

*

“Hey, Remus,” Lily says, not looking up. She’s got the map balanced between the pages of her book, which makes looking up from it entirely redundant. She’d seen him approach from across the room, his dot moving towards hers. He’d just been with Sirius and James down near the transfiguration classroom, and he’d lingered with Sirius for quite a long time behind the portrait of Dagmar the Destroyer before he’d come up to find her. Remus huffs something close to a laugh and takes the seat next to her.

“Hello, Lily,” Remus says. “How are you doing?”

“Not well, I think.” She says, and sets her book down on her lap. She looks up at him.

“Are you still in pain?” Remus asks.

“Not as such,” Lily says. Her wounds are still itchy, but the regime she’s had from Pomfrey and Slughorn has made a significant impact. They’ve faded more than she thought possible in the days that have elapsed. She’s slept a lot, too. Physically, she feels basically fine. “I think --- it’s my pride that hurts, Remus.”

He nods, sympathetic.

“You were right, you know,” Remus says, quieter. “It’s their shame.”

“It felt —- triumphant, at the time,” Lily says, because it had. She’d momentarily felt powerful. There was some jubilation to be found in exposing their worst act and making it small, but that’s faded now. The castle has moved on to new horrors, and Lily still has to go to the hospital wing twice a day to be inspected and poked at. “But mostly, I think I feel quite —- humiliated."

Remus shifts closer. She curls into the side of his arm.

“It’s —- humiliating that I was left there, with my shirt open. Bleeding in my bra, Remus. That Sirius found me that way.” She says, which is the first time she’s said it. She’d purposefully skimmed over it before, told herself that it wasn’t really that different to Sirius seeing her in her bikini at the beach, that it was hardly what he’d be focusing on when she’d had words cut into her skin, but it did still matter. Someone else had seen her like that too, after they’d knocked her out, and she didn’t know if they’d spelled it open or if they’d stood over her and done it by hand, trying to reveal a big enough canvas to slash into her flesh. “That my —- skin is the subject of speculation. That they’ll probably get away with it, and I —- I will have this forever.”

“There is nothing there that you should be humiliated about.” Remus says, and he is right, but she still feels it. It stings the same way her skin stings when she’s subject to another layer of potions.

“Perhaps it’s better to say I feel vulnerable.” Lily says, “Reminded of it, forcefully. I suppose —- it hadn’t all sunk in yet.”

“Give yourself some time, Lily.” Remus says, “It’s barely been a week.”

She sniffs, and feels her eyes watering. He puts an arm around her. It helps.

“I think I was in shock.” Lily says, looking down at her hands.

“You have been incredibly brave,” Remus says, his voice low and reassuring, into her forehead. “I think Sirius might have fallen a little bit in love with you, the way he told it. Moony, Evans, covered in blood. Takes one look and says --- ‘Not very original’. Fucking legendary, Moony. Lily Evans is a fucking rockstar, who knew Prongs had taste. If I wasn’t entirely sure of his proclivities, I might be a little jealous.”

Lily manages something that’s close to a laugh. Despite herself, she likes the idea of Sirius declaring her a rockstar. Legendary. She’d felt that from Sirius, this big, momentous wave of admiration, like she’d shifted in his estimations again, came further into view. She’s felt the same in reverse, this new appreciation for him: yelling at McGonagall, refusing to leave her bedside, proudly walking into the Great Hall with her propped up against her arm. He’d been the only one to immediately back her up. He’d been the only one immediately incensed into action enough to do something so undeniably insane that she thinks it twisted them together.

Remus carries on.

“That isn’t blotted out by you being upset, Lily.” Remus says, “You’re entitled.”

Lily is upset. She’s upset that she’d just been coming back from the library, that she hadn’t been even allowed the dignity of pulling out her wand to fight back, that you can still read those hate-fuelled words off her skin, and —-

And she’s upset that what she wanted was her friend.

“She didn’t come to visit,” Lily says, “I’ve been scarred and she didn’t even —-“

She looks back down at the map. A tear falls from her face and lands on the parchment. She sees Roisin’s dot there, right next to Matthew O’Conner, as it has been almost every time she’s looked.

They’d started dating again right in the last month before Summer, and they’d all laughed about it, except Roisin. She’d been adamant that it was serious this time. No one has ever been serious about O’Conner, Amy said, this glint in her eye, her brown hair in her face, alive. The two of them had never fully gotten over the fight, but then they were always at it. Bickering. Orbiting round each other. Both of them were entirely too opinionated for their friendship to run smoothly, but they adored each other too, desperately. They were intertwined in a way that Lily never was, really. Each other’s biggest cheerleaders and biggest sources of conflict. Amy-and-Roisin had been sisters more than friends. And Lily —- loved them both and had been content to keep some of her world hostage. Not on the peripheries as such, but certainly not in the center.

Well, she’d proven them wrong about Matthew. It was serious. Serious enough that she’d run there with her grief, at least, away from Lily.

Remus pulls his arm closer around her.

“I’ve learned a few things about grief,” Remus says, “And scars, actually. You can sink into it, Lily, get stuck. And that’s okay for a while, but —- the only way out is to … move. Grow. And sometimes you can do that with other people who understand your loss, and it draws you together, weaves you closer. And sometimes ——-a loss is so stark, the only way you can process a loss, to live with it, is to become a different version of the person you were. To grow apart.”

She looks up at him. He’s not quite looking at her, and he’s wrapped the fingers of the left hand in the sleeve of his jumper, that time-old nervous gesture that gives him away. He rarely talks like this.

“Your father.”

Remus’ jaw clenches, but he offers her a small nod. Tears press in from behind her eyes.

“Well. I think it’s a cop out, Remus,” Lily says, her voice hot. “I think everyone should just --- do better.”

Remus chuckles and shifts his gaze back her way.

“You’re probably right,” Remus says. “But --- you’ve had it for three days. Have you gone to find her yet?”

She hasn’t. She hasn’t made any move towards her since that last letter in the Summer. She hasn’t really, properly, seen her since the funeral. This is on her too. She knows that.

Lily shuts her book, hides the map from view.

“And what did you learn about scars?”

Remus’ brow furrows as the change of subject -- a brutal one, too -- but he allows her to do it.

“Well,” Remus says, tilting his head as if he’s considering it. “There’s an interesting split between those people who feel too awkward to look at them at all, and those who won’t look away. And sometimes you run into a raging moron with no boundaries who thinks they’re an invitation to put their tongue all over them.”

Despite it all, that shocks a laugh out of her. She suspects that’s the point, as it’s a much more Sirius-thing to say than Remus would usually offer up.

He’s rarely said anything about his scars; it’s just like him to offer this up now, because she does need to hear it.

“But the main thing I’ve learned,” Remus says, “Is that both camps, eventually, get over it, and stop noticing them much.”

Lily nods. Her throat feels thick. She hasn’t spent much time looking at them. They’re still, currently, covered by bandages, but she’s very aware of their existence, thinks about it whenever she moves and she can feel them pull, stretch, sting.

“And the third camp?” Lily asks, primly. “Do they grow tired?”

“No sign of that yet.” Remus says, ruefully, and offers her a last coy smirk before his expression drops serious again. “I also know a few spells to hide them. First magic I learnt. They’re --- only so effective, but if you want…”

Lily nods. Draws more of herself together.

“I’ll let you know.”

Remus nods. Squeezes her shoulder.

“Room for another?” Sirius asks, approaching. There actually isn’t, but that sort of practicality has never stopped Sirius Black doing anything. He sits down on the arm of the sofa on Lily’s side, so that he’s pressed up quite close against her with an arm thrown over the back of the sofa, stretching just out far enough to almost-subtly dig a thumb into Remus Lupin’s wrist. She’s sandwiched between the two of them. She used to watch the Marauders do this: squash themselves onto an entirely too-small sofa, all limbs and casual physical contact. For Sirius to include her in that is entirely new, and there’s something reassuring about it. She’s gotten so used to his big, brash presence, that vague scent of his cologne that always screamed expensive. She lets herself sway into his side for a moment instead, and Sirius draws her closer. Protective. It pushes that feeling of vulnerability away to be wedged between two substantial boys. She doesn’t like that it helps that they’re solid, man-like, but it does. She feels safer. More grounded to something. “How is my favourite ginger?”

“How many do you know?” Lily asks.

“At least three,” Sirius says, “Although I suppose I had forgotten about Gideon Prewett, who is of course one of my icons. I might retract that statement, Lily.”

“I’ll allow it,” Lily says, “As long as I keep in your top five.”

“Hmm. At least top ten, I promise,” Sirius says, and offers her one of those dazzling smiles. She thinks she’s come to understand Sirius Black in these last six months. The grit beneath his humour, the well of anger, this boundless, reckless sort of commitment to those he loves. She’d always have been entirely sure that Sirius Black would throw himself in front of a curse to protect his friends. Currently, she feels quite sure that he’d do that for her. What’s a bigger surprise is that she thinks she might just do the same back. That the idea of anyone attempting to hurt Sirius stirs up the same white-fury and protectiveness that she’s felt about Remus Lupin for years.

Brothers, she thinks vaguely. Maybe this is what it’d be like to have brothers.

“Prat,” Remus comments, dry.

“I see we’ve gotten distracted,” Sirius says, attention pulled to Remus instead, although he’s still got an arm around her.

“Hmm?” Lily asks.

“Moony was supposed to be apprehending the map.”

“Oh,” Lily says, “One of your --- mystery very important needs?”

“That’s it,” Sirius says, with a grin.

“Remus,” Lily says, twisting to look his way, “I’m, I meant to say, I didn’t mean ----” Remus shakes his head, just slightly. “I wouldn’t do anything that would ---”

“Relax, Evans, we know,” Sirius says, and flicks her in the back of her neck. “You had a point. If circumstances were different, I can see the appeal of a bit of constant surveillance --- but, Prongs had a bit of an idea on that front, which we’re going to work on.”

“Oh dear,” Lily says, “Will I like this idea?”

“You know,” Remus says, thoughtfully, “I think you might.”

“That makes me deeply nervous.”

“Fair enough, Evans,” Sirius grins, and laughs. Lily slips the map out of her book and passes it back to Sirius. He pockets it.

“Did it help?” He asks, tipping his voice back into seriousness for a moment.

“Make me feel protected?” Lily asks, and she swallows. “No. Not really.”

Sirius makes a noise like a grunt of dissatisfaction, then hugs her, tight. She might just love the idiot. She might just adore them both, for every ridiculous, brilliant inch of them.

“It’s —— incredible you know, that thing.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Remus says, and he’s basically using her hair fanned out across the back of the sofa as a cover to hold Sirius hand — thumb alongside the delicate flesh of his wrist at least —- which remains both sweet and funny — “He’s big-headed enough as it is.”

James and Peter arrive when they’re still sitting like that, absurdly squashed on a too-small sofa as they talk about the map quiet enough for no one else to hear.

James has an unexpectedly serious expression on his face and he comes to sit on the edge of the coffee table directly in front of her with purpose. It puts them close enough that their knees are touching. Peter hovers behind him, unsure.

“What’s happened?” Remus asks, voice instantly devoid of lightness.

“Lily,” James says, looking her dead in the eye. “It was Wilkes.”

“Oh,” Lily says.

She had been dimly, distantly aware of the attempts to find a culprit. McGonagall had told her they intended to take it very seriously with that grim thin-lipped fury, but she’s dissociated herself from their efforts. It’d been easier to assume the question would go unanswered, to cast the villain as someone unknowable, unknown.

But she does know Wilkes. Nerissa Wilkes; blonde, tall, sneering. She’d tripped her up in the corridor once or twice, had sent her derisive looks, but she’d never ---

James is still talking.

“Some second year Slytherin gave her up,” James says, low, quiet. “Said they saw her coming back to the Common Room, and they --- said she was covered in blood, laughing about it. It’s unlikely that she was alone, but… they didn’t give another name. They’ve got some Auror talking to her now. They’ve --- expelled her, Lily.”

“It wouldn’t’ve been Wilkes’ idea,” Sirius says, harsh, grim. “She doesn’t have the imagination. If some --- second year saw something, she wouldn’t’ve been the only one who did. Why talk at all?”

James shakes his head.

“They wouldn’t say anything else, the second year. Said they’d been threatened into giving up that much.”

“So Wilkes is the scapegoat.”

“She did it, Sirius,” James says, “She might not have been alone, but I’m --- I’m sure.”

“Why would you be sure? How —?” Sirius begins.

“Severus,” Lily says. The word comes out flat and clipped. She digs her fingernails into the flesh of her knee. She’d said it as soon as it dropped into her head, with a horrible ruinous clarity.

Severus Snape.

She’d seen him on the map when she was examining it earlier. She hadn’t been looking for him, but her gaze had caught on it because he wasn’t where she’d have expected him to be. He’d been hovering half a corridor away from Dumbledore’s Office, pacing back and forth. She’d seen Wilkes in his office. She hadn’t known why. It had flitted across her mind as some idle point of curiosity, before she’d looked back at the Ravenclaw Common room, focused on Roisin.

They'd been threatened into giving up that much. Some twelve year old second year, now with a target on their back. Threatened. Covered in blood. Laughing.

There’s no one else in the Slytherin Common Room who’d want someone held accountable for it enough to—- not enough to put their own neck out, of course, but to force someone else to —

She looks back up to meet James’ gaze, seeking out confirmation.

He nods.

She lets out a harsh breath.

“Ran into him skulking around,” James says, quieter, “And, well. That’s where I’d put my Galleons. Lily. Dumbledore wanted —- he wanted to know if you wanted to speak to Wilkes, see her, before her parents collect her. Speak to the Aurors, maybe.”

“Yes,” Lily says, determined, and then her resolve crumbles. Her mask slips. The tears come rushing up. Nerissa Wilkes. Snape. Sev. Severus. She brings a hand up to her mouth in an attempt to swallow it all back down, but James has reached for her before she gets all the way. He pulls her into a tight hug.

She's still squeezed onto a two seater sofa with Remus Lupin — who is by no means small — and half of Sirius Black, and Sirius purposefully piles in, and then she’s completely surrounded, squashed, by Marauders.

“Get in here, Wormtail.” Sirius says, and then she hears a noise of complaint from Remus, an extra weight. They’re --- ridiculous. She’s crushed into Sirius' side, someone’s elbow in her stomach, and she’s genuinely pleased by it. She's so flattened by the whole silly lot of them that it’s hard to feel lonely. It pushes out the fear.

“Let her breathe, you prats.” Remus says, but she’s laughing as James starts detangling himself. His glasses have entirely come off. The tears that escaped have gotten lost somewhere amongst all their limbs, gone. Sirius slaps her bracingly on the back. Pete is perching on the other arm of the sofa. They all have entirely too much leg. Too long arms. Sirius hits his knee off the table as he tries to right himself, swears, purposefully kicks James in the shins.

“I’m blind, you cretin,” James says.

“Every man for himself.”

“Bloody nutter —-”

Lily, who somehow ended up with his glasses in her lap, reaches out to put them back on his face. The intimacy of the gesture doesn’t strike her until it’s too late, and she’s already pushing them up his nose. They’re absurdly close, Lily’s cheek still wet with tears. Her skin heats up. She drops her hands back down to her knees. James looks at her for a long moment, his eyes wide, searching.

He clears his throat, shakes himself back into motion.

“Well,” He says, standing up. He offers out a hand to help her up. “Shall we?”

“Okay then, Potter.” She says, takes his hand, and lets him pull her up from between his ridiculous mates. She’s sufficiently wedged in that he actually has to pull, and she stumbles slightly when she’s finally upright. She immediately lets go of his hand to straighten out her robes, attempt to gather her things, push back whatever --- whatever moment had just happened.

“We’ll wait up,” Sirius says, having already absorbed all of her space on the sofa by sprawling across it horizontally, shamelessly using Remus’ thigh as a pillow. Remus for his part has already pick-pocketed the map out of Sirius’ pocket and is eyeing it curiously, giving off every impression of being completely unaware of the lump-of-Sirius to his side.

“Lily,” Remus says, as she gathers her things. When she meets his eye, he’s smiling. “They sent Alice.”

*

Seeing Alice Longbottom, nee Fortescue, is exactly what she needs.

Lily hasn’t actually seen her since the summer after fifth year, where they’d met in Diagon Alley and had lunch in Muggle London, but they’ve written to each other semi-consistently since Alice graduated, hovering the line somewhere between mentorship and friendship. From the beginning, she’s always been one of Lily’s most trusted lenses into the Wizarding World, both honest and kind.

‘Had to volunteer when I saw your name on my desk,’ she says, after, when Dumbledore has suggested that the Head Boy and Head Girl accompany her out of the castle and they have a chance to talk candidly. ‘I’m only sorry it’s under such shitty circumstances.’

Alice delivers the honest assessment that it’s unlikely that Wilkes will receive any Ministry punishment. That there’s enough doubt between the coerced accusation and an unknown third party, that she’ll be able to capitalise on enough influence and sympathy for being expelled that it won’t go anywhere. ‘It’ll probably push her straight into their ranks’ Alice says, as they reach the big oak doors out of the castle, looking grim but resolute. She chastises her for not writing, gives her a hug and then whispers ‘would’ve expected you and Potter to be at loggerheads’ into her hair.

*

The next week is incredibly unpleasant.

She gets through it.

*

“Lily,” Pete says, sitting himself down to her right.

“We’ve had a discussion,” Sirius says, throwing himself down onto her left with enough commitment that it shakes the table she’s sitting on. A blot of ink drops from her pen onto the parchment. She sets down her quill and arches a brow up at him.

“Taken a vote,” James continues.

“Reviewed the minutes of the last meeting,”

“And it’s been decided,”

“We’re taking you out.” Pete finishes.

“It’s been decided, has it?” Lily asks, meeting Remus’ gaze. He’s got his ‘quietly-entertained’ expression on, forever lined with the softness of his affection for them. Her gaze flicks to James instead, whose nervousness about this declaration is made clear by the utter-dissary of his hair. Peter looks eager, keen. And then there’s Sirius, who’s the picture of completely relaxed. Sometimes, she still can’t quite wrap her head around the fact that these disasters have become her friends.

Then again, she can’t deny that they’ve been consistently showing up for her for some time now. After all of this, she’s grateful for them in a way that she can’t quite put into language.

“Friday night,” Sirius affirms.

“You’re not patrolling, we checked.”

“And we’ve all been very good boys this year, which means none of us are in detention.” Sirius adds.

“Yet. There’s still time.” Lily says, fixing him with a look. Sirius laughs. “The whole lot of you?”

“Yep,” Sirius continues, “Potter, Tweedle-dum, Tweedle-dee and the conversationalist. That’s what you used to call us, isn’t it? Well, I hate to disappoint you on the latter but I intend to get Moony thoroughly drunk and no good for anyone, so you’ll have to make do with James and Pete for conversation.”

“Something to look forward to,” Remus says with a wry smile.

“What’s the occasion?” Lily asks.

“Well, we’ve been working on something we want to show you,” James says, which is —— concerning.

Sirius had said they’d had some kind of idea, but she’d heard nothing more about it. She had vaguely noticed they’d all been … quieter over the last week and a half. It’s not that she hadn’t seen them, because she’d spent a fair amount of time on the peripherals of their company, but they’d seemed --- inordinately interested in ‘homework’. Focused. It hadn’t fully permeated her consciousness because she’s been entirely wrapped up in trying to process and trying not to let the renewed-vitirol from the rest of the Slytherin’s --- who seemed to believe that she was the villain of this piece for getting Wilkes expelled -- sink beneath her skin. When she’d thought about it at all, she’d ascribed their behaviour to just being unexpectedly conscientious. They’d let her be quiet and solemn, hiding herself within the confines of their noise, as she tried to recalibrate.

“And this term’s been rubbish,” Sirius says, his voice darker, bordering on harsh. “And we think you deserve some fun. Let down your hair a bit.”

‘Rubbish’ feels like a very small word for the past few weeks of her life, but it is not inaccurate.

It has all been utterly fucking rubbish.

Fun. Yes. She would like some fun.

Lily shuts her book.

“And where am I being taken?”

“A surprise, Evans,” Sirius says. “Dress muggle.”

“You’re aware, Black, that sneaking off school property is against the rules?”

“Only if you get caught,” Sirius grins. Lily slides her gaze over to Remus.

“I know,” Remus agrees, with a bemused smile, “Impossible to argue with logic that wrong.”

“You know our methods,” Pete says, “We -- rarely get caught.”

“It’s a pub, Lily,” Remus says, “In London. There’s pool and darts and pork scratching. These prats are big fans of their fried pickles. Nothing weird or disturbing will happen to you.”

“No promises,” Sirius grins.

“The same can’t be guaranteed for me,” Remus says.

“James’ idea,” Sirius says, “Come on, Evans.”

“Drinks are on me,” James offers, with a look that she’d probably describe as ‘hopeful’, and ---

James Potter is a hard person to be miserable around.

She’s seen him rally Sirius out of sullen, angry moods with loud, ridiculous gestures and pranks. She’s seen him coax Remus out of his own head with a softer-more-persistent-humour. Seen him offer Peter open reassurance. Seen him manage to encourage bleeding-Quidditch players with rally-cries about victory. Seen him charm teachers out of detention with a bit of performative-arrogance. He’s turned it on her, too, over the summer, somehow managing to get her on a broom, or to go running into the sea, to talk about something else. She’d assumed this meant that he didn’t have the capacity to leave room for misery and that it was almost a flaw to be rushed out of it, not allowed to wallow.

But they have let her.

She’s been surprised by how easily they’ve manoeuvred around her and made space for her to be a bit of a mess. While barely acknowledging it, they have also thoroughly looked after her. She’s rarely found herself actually alone, she’s been gently prodded with a few jokes but not dragged into their chaos, she’s been offered companionable silence, a sudden uptick in the amount of time she spends with one of them lazily throwing their arm over her (Sirius, mostly), company for her trips back to the hospital wing.

Lily’s been clinging on to the remnants of her own bravery and she is entirely sure that, without them, she’d be doing much, much worse. She has been the opposite of fun. This is the most direct outward effort to pull her out of her funk that they’d employed since Wilkes was escorted off the premises, the first actual overture and ---

And she does want to run away from Hogwarts for a bit and get very drunk in a Muggle Pub. It possibly sounds like the best idea she’s ever heard.

“Okay,” Lily says and smiles.

“Excellent,” Sirius declares, and slaps his hands on the table.

*

It’s the same defiance that had risen up the morning after the incident which has her searching through her trunk for exactly the right thing to wear on Friday evening. On at least one level she’s aware that it’s all illogical, inconsequential, small --- that it’s probably horribly girly of her to be having some kind of meltdown about what top to put on when there’s people being murdered in their beds, but it’s ---

It is important.

It isn’t about looking nice. She wants to look… powerful. Confident. She wants to make it crystal fucking clear that you can curse words into her skin, but you cannot make her ashamed of her existence. They have absolutely no power at all to make her feel small. That Lily Evans can not be defeated by bigoted hatred.

Her bandages are off and it’s her first reason to wear anything but school robes, and she will not be listening to her instinct that wants her to hide it, cover it up. She is going to channel that angry obstinance that had her strutting into the Great Hall when she was dizzy with blood loss and she is going to look --- hot.

Her fingers settle on a top that Amy always used to have to talk her into actually wearing, had in fact purchased for her. Dark green. Daringly low-cut. Yes, that. She pulls on a skirt, digs around in the bottom of her trunk for her make-up. She stops when she assesses herself in the mirror, forcing herself to take it in.

It catches in her throat.

Despite all her best efforts, Pomfrey failed in her intent to make it unreadable. She is branded. Mudblood bitch. It had scabbed over twice, but now it’s settled into these pink, angry lines. She’s been applying twice-daily potions as instructed and Pomfrey has said she expects them to eventually fade to white, but it hasn’t happened yet. Lily stops. Her hands go up to her collarbone. She traces out the letter, feeling thick with it, her throat sharp and ---

“Hey,” Cassie says. She hadn’t heard either her or Alex come up to the dorm, but they’re suddenly hovering behind her. Lily blinks. She just barely manages not to cry, which would be the end of it. She’s quite sure if the tears come now there’d be no rallying, she’d have to crawl into her bed in her pyjamas and weep until there’s nothing left in her. They’d have to peel out of it, broken. “I’ve got a necklace that will go great with that.”

“Oh, yeah,” Alex says, “That --- one with the charm? That would look great.”

All words have been scraped out of chest, but she nods, tight. Her hands are shaking.

“And --- Mary’s got those earrings,”

“Definitely,” Alex nods.

“Here,” Cassie says, and then she’s pulling a necklace free from her trunk. She stands up, lines herself up behind Lily in the mirror. Lily shakily lifts up her hair, and lets Cass fasten it around her neck. “Perfect.” Cassie says, close enough that Lily can feel the breath on the back of her neck. Cassie’s hands settle on her shoulders for a moment. She squeezes them. They’ve never really been friends. They’ve never disliked each other, either. They’ve always orbited around each other amicably and they’ve made great efforts to be kind to her this year, but there’s something about this gesture that ---

Lily swallows. She looks away from the scars on her chest and looks at the necklace instead. It sparkles and spins in the centre of her chest. It’s absolutely overkill for some muggle pub and she does not care. She currently feels a little like if she ever takes it off she’ll dissolve.

“Which lipstick?” Lily says, holding them up. Her hands are still shaking slightly.

“Neither,” Cassie declares, and steers her to sit on her bed. “I’ve got a better one.”

It takes listening to the mundane-hum of them debating which lipstick she should wear for the horror to settle. That raw, sudden wave of revulsion and fear. She swallows past it. Squares her jaw as Alex does something to her hair. They steer her back in front of the mirror when they’re finished, Cassie clutching her shoulders, Alex hand on her arm. She stares down her reflection, forces herself to see past it. Not to not look, but to absorb the entirety of this new version of her.

It’s been a long time since she’s made a genuine effort to look nice. She does. She does look nice. Scarred, yes, but she still looks ---

She sucks in a sharp breath.

“You look great,” Alex says, her voice fierce. “Make them eat it, Lily, the bastards.”

She manages a laugh, although it takes an effort and there's a moment she thinks it might tip into a sob. It's imperative that she leaves soon, to a place with no mirrors and alcohol. Doubles. She turns around, taking a detour to grab her jacket.

“Absolutely not,” Cassie says, “You are not covering this up with a jacket.”

“I absolutely will,” Lily says, pointedly, “It’s nearly October, you lunatics.”

“That’s ---” Cassie cuts in, about to object, and then ---

Then Roisin walks in. She stares at the three of them for a moment, her face blotchy, expression grim. Lily’s stomach bottoms out.

“Hi Lily,” Roisin says, her voice exceptionally small.

*

Five minutes later, Lily wraps on the door to the boys dormitory. She’d shaken off whatever Alex had done to her hair and removed that lipstick before she walked down to the Common Room, feeling slightly exposed and a little shaky.

They’re more or less their usual formation: James sitting on the foot of his bed in his muggle-garb, spinning what looks to be a tennis ball -- although why James would have a tennis ball she couldn’t say -- in his hands; Remus propped up on his bed by his elbows, book laid out across the pillows; Peter, digging through his trunk with a pack of biscuits hovering near his elbow; the evidence of Sirius’ existence apparent by the chaos around his bed even if his exact whereabouts is unknown.

“Evening --- shit Lily, you look great.” James blurts, then goes quite pink. Like a magnet, his hand disappears into his hair as he tries to look like he’s not looking at her, without quite managing to stop looking at her. “I mean —- hi.”

“Hello, James.” She deadpans. Remus smirks into his book. “Bad news —-“

“Evans, you’ve got legs!” Sirius declares, walking out of their bathroom in nothing but a towel, utterly shameless. She had seen this much of Sirius at a number of points over the summer, but it’s still slightly startling to be suddenly presented with so much bare-chest. He deposits himself on the other half of Remus’ bed with a dangerous lack of care for his towel, which just about continues to cover everything.

“Evening, Sirius.” Lily says, folding her arms over her chest.

“Don’t drip on my book you deranged nutter,” Remus says, without looking up. Sirius flicks his wet hair in his face. “Pads, will you ---” he shoves him in the shoulder.

“Careful, Moony, there’s a lady present.” Sirius smirks. Remus stretches to pick up his robes from the floor, then chucks them unceremoniously on top of him.

“Lily,” Remus says, looking up at her, “You were saying.”

“Right,” Lily says.

“I suspect we’re running late,” James says, “Given this git still needs to fuss about what he’s going to wear for half of our lives.”

“Peter isn’t dressed either,” Sirius says, from under the lump of robes.

“Peter won’t spend an hour preening over his hair,” Remus says, then makes a noise which Lily suspects might be because Sirius --- still under the big pile of robes with his feet sticking out -- has just taken the opportunity to lean forward and bite Remus’ arm. “You utter--”

“Look,” Lily says, “Sorry, but --- I’m going to have to bail.”

“Evans,” Sirius says, shaking his head free of his robe-blanket, “And break our hearts? We’ve never talked a lady into coming out with us before.”

“You shock me,” Lily deadpans, then wrings her hands. “Sorry, its --- Roisin’s just --- showed up.”

“Ah,”

“She wants to talk.”

“Course,” James says, nodding, bracing. “Well, okay then. We --- never mind.”

“I am sorry, James,” Lily says, “I was --- looking forward to it, but I ---”

“No,” James agrees, “Absolutely. You should ---”

“Well,” Lily says, and shoves her hands in the pocket of her skirt.

“We’ll catch up with you later, then.” Peter says.

She gets most of the way back to the door before she stalls, turns back around. There’s something about James’ stupid, insufferable kicked-puppy look that she can’t walk away from. She just feels too guilty for it.

“What about tomorrow instead?” Lily asks, “I hear you’ve been working on something special and probably horrifying you need to show me.”

James is looking at her very intently.

“Reckon we could delay our raucous intent for twenty four hours, yeah,” James nods.

"Okay."

"Okay."

“Excellent. Now, if you take two of these idiots with you, Lily, there'll be absolutely no need for me to get dressed.” Sirius says, with a wolfish smirk.

“Can I pick which two?” Lily asks, which wins her a laugh from Sirius. “Right. Tomorrow then.”

“Lily,” Remus calls after her, “You do look very nice.”

*

When she gets back to the dormitory, Cassie and Alex have made herself scarce and Lily starts divesting herself from the rest of it: carefully undoing the clasp of the necklace and laying it aside, finishing the job of removing her lipstick. Roisin is forcefully not looking, her eyes raw with emotion and stony. She’s lost weight, grown another few inches. She looks older, some of her softness gone. She looks incredibly tired. Lily has missed her, but it’s a complicated, bitter kind of missing. The distance between them feels unfathomable. She is not sure they ever really knew how to be friends without Amy and Jane, but she’s also sure that can’t be true. Somewhere, once, they knew how to do this.

“Really, I should report you for not sleeping in your dorm,” Lily says, the words coming out clipped and harsh. It’s a bad start, but Lily’s raw and hurting.

“Go for it,” Roisin snaps back, folding her arms. “I’m sure whatever you were about to do with Sirius Black was entirely within the letter of the law.”

“Where have you been?” Lily demands.

“You know where I’ve been,” Roisin says.

“Right. Anywhere but here.” Lily says, and tugs a jumper over her head. Rosin-and-Amy were the ones that used to argue. Jane was the peace maker. Lily tried to avoid their disagreements all together. Without them, she doesn’t know what role she’s supposed to play. “Fantastic. Thank you for that ---”

“Fuck off, Lily,” Roisin says, her voice full of emotion. “Everyone can see you’re --- fine, that you’re surrounded by your --- new friends. Gits who you professed to hate, until they started paying you attention ---”

“Like you can talk, with Matthew sodding O’Connor ---”

“We were never good enough for you. You only ever wanted to be our friends when Snape or Lupin weren’t too busy ignoring you ---” Lily makes an angry noise, turns around properly. “You were already trying to replace us with Sirius, before --- “

“Grow up.”

“Your problem is that you only like people who treat you like crap.”

“Like you, you mean?” Lily says, wild. “Or did I imagine you not visiting me in the Hospital Wing, ignoring me ---”

“--- you went and disappeared off with them on the train!”

“ --- you ignored me all summer,” Lily says, hot, “I was alone and you --- avoiding the dormitory.”

“I couldn’t stand to be here, okay? I can’t——” Roisin begins, and then she cracks. An awful, wounded noise comes out of her chest. “Lily. Oh, Lily.” She says, and then she’s crying, and Lily’s going to her and they’re clutching at each other. Lily’s sobbing like she hasn’t since right after she’d heard the news, burying it in her arm, muttering apologies into each other’s robes. She feels dizzy with it.

“Shouldnt’ve have listened when you said you wanted to be left alone,” Lily says, helpless. Roisin’s got hold of her arm, holding it tight enough that her fingernails have cut into her skin. “I shouldn’t —-“

“No, I —- I did come, Lily, but you were asleep and I couldn’t face you, couldn’t face it, but I should’ve —- right away.”

“— I was so, horrid, about Matthew and I —-“

Eventually, the wear out of apologies and tears. They’re left still clutching each other on the bed, with the remnants of Lily’s sweet supply laid out between them, completely saturated from emotion.

“I’m sorry for ruining your evening.” Roisin says, her voice small.

“‘No,” Lily says, shaking her head. “Don’t think I was ready anyway, probably would’ve —— cracked. Lost it. Cried all over James Potter or something else horribly embarrassing.”

Roisin smiles, a weak brittle thing. She looks at her hands for a while before looking up at meeting her eye with one of her Amy-ish looks. Slightly-sly.

“Heard a rumour you’re dating Sirius Black.”

“He’ll enjoy that.” Lily says.

“And one about Remus.” Roisin adds. Lily laughs at that, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “It’s James, isn’t it?”

“I am not dating anyone.”

“Amy always said you’d end up with James,” Roisin says. Lily diverts her gaze and picks up a chocolate frog. She picks at the foil, feels another sharp pang of emotion rise up. It feels like her chest is full of wool.

“They’ve been looking after me.” Lily manages. It feels slightly like an admission of a failure, but she’s needed it. With the foundations of everything shaking, she’s needed them to be so loud and stupid and so full of life. Big enough to make other things feel small.

“I saw,” Roisin nods, her eyes shining again. “They were brilliant.”

Her next exhale risks turning into another bout of tears and she doesn’t want to cry anymore. She rips open the chocolate frog and looks up at her. Forces a smile onto her face.

“So. Tell me about how it’s going with Matthew, then.”

It’s much, much later the first time either of them manage to say her name.

“Lily. It’s Amy’s birthday next week,” Roisin says.

Lily can’t speak. She nods. Eighteen.

“Can you,” Roisin begins, then swallows. She pulls out a piece of parchment. “I wondered —— if you could help me with this?”

Lily takes the piece of parchment, stares. Her chest tightens.

“I think,” She says, slow, “I know just the man.”

*

Just over a week later, Lily Evans is summoned to Dumbledore's Office with none other than James Potter .

“Ah,” Dumbledore says, as they walk in. James wanders in, giving off the impression that this isn’t his first visit by a long stretch, walking over to the two chairs by his desk with confidence. “Mr Potter,” Dumbledore says, with an incline of his head, “Miss Evans.”

“Evening, Professor.” James says, “What can we do for you?”

She’s quite sure that Dumbledore’s lip twitches.

He turns around two pieces of parchment he’d been assessing, twisting them so they face in their direction. Lily blinks as they come into view and it becomes clear quite why they’d received a note summoning them here.

First, the revised eulogy Roisin had presented her with. IN MEMORY OF AMY FLETCHER, it declares, and there’s a photo of Amy, an arm thrown around Roisin and one around Jane; Lily behind the camera, hidden from view. They’re all wildly happy and young, tie’s loose, hair messy; she can almost hear the sound of their laughter. There’s more: Lily makes it into some of the other photos, into the stories, the quotes. Amy’s life in technicolour, reclaimed from that scrap of nothing that they’d printed.

Rosin had formatted it to look a lot like the Prophet, but there’s none of the Prophet’s half-hearted commitment to being ‘unbiased’. It is full frontal in its opinion. Murdered by purist scum.

Even knowing them, she’d been impressed by how thoroughly they’d managed to distribute it. The morning after, James had advised that they’d recruited most of the Quidditch team and Peeves, who should never be underestimated, but she’d woken up to find it plastered across the notice board, bits of the castle walls not adjourned by portraits, on the back of toilet doors, in every Common Room, a big-blown up copy of it hanging in the Great Hall.

Since then, she’d heard about a Third Year Hufflepuff beginning to work on their own. IN MEMORY OF DORIS ABOTT, her beloved aunt who’d been found bloodied in her bed. About a Fifth Year Ravenclaw who’d graffit’d the names of three Muggles killed in an attack last week on a portrait near the Slytherin Dormitory. That someone had started to lay flowers at the foot of the Statue Amy had once charmed a neon-pink for a week.

Lily had not necessarily been intending to participate in inciting a rebellion, but she’s certainly not sorry about it. She thinks, overall, it’s a very good way to celebrate Amy’s eighteenth birthday.

The second piece of parchment, James’ freshly created HOGWARTS SAFETY PAMPHLET. Dumbledore’s fingers linger on that, as he pushes it in their direction.

“Your handiwork, I understand?” Dumbledore says, raising an eyebrow in James’ direction.

The concept of it was brilliant. A crude, bastardised copy of their map, with half the secret passages removed and none of the tracking-properties. The best replicas they could produce on short-notice, according to Remus. It effectively exposed all the short-cuts they’d been using for most of their Hogwarts Careers, littered with advice and, surprisingly, reiterating a string of school rules that were designed for safety. Of course, given the idiots who’d made it, the thing begins with ‘as we all know, there are some right cocks wandering about’ and ends with ‘until the Ministry gets it act together and locks all the twisted shits up, stay vigilant!’ Once she’d seen the final version of it, she’d found herself torn between that normal amusement and incredulity, but it is still unquestionably brilliant.

“Yes Professor,” James says, without a hint of reservation.

“Forgive me, Mr Potter, the second year Mr Filch confiscated with from was loath to provide an explanation of quite how it worked. Indulge me.”

“Well Professor,” James says, with a butter-wouldn’t-melt-smile, “Mostly, It’s a map.”

“I see that, Mr Potter.” Dumbledore twinkles.

“Professor,” Lily says, even, “There’s been a marked rise of violence in the corridors, particularly against Muggleborns students. The younger ones. We wanted to equip them to move around the castle more easily ---”

“So this was a group project?”

James begins to attempt to counter the accusation, but Lily cuts in before he makes it to speech. He sends a pointed, directed look at the side of her face.

“Yes,” Lily says, firm. And it was. They’d worked surprisingly effectively together: strategizing, lining up the two to try and use some of the cover of talk to pass out maps and instructions; a great deal of replicating spells. “We distributed one to every student we thought might be vulnerable.”

“I see,” Dumbledore says, “And, forgive me Miss Evans, were you not concerned about this map falling into the hands of those you didn’t want it to?”

“It’s individually password protected, Professor.” James says.

“And could someone not --- force the password out of someone?”

“There’s a decoy password that wipes it.”

“I see,” Dumbledore says, “And --- what if this led to an increase of students using more unusual routes around the school, routes that may not be known to the teachers, or, perhaps, Mr Filch.”

“Don’t worry, Sir,” James says, “Filch has caught us in every one of those passages plenty of times.”

Lily sends him a look.

“Professor,” She says, “We’ve instructed the Prefects --- Some of the trusted Prefects to ensure that every one of those passages are checked as part of regular patrols, in an effort to prevent what happened to me being even worse. Obviously --- we can’t guarantee anyone’s safety, but ---- Hogwarts can be very disorientating. Large. It is a difficult time for many students to feel confident, secure. We wanted to give those particularly at risk an advantage, to equip them to be able to focus on something other than this war. We wanted to give them the gift of feeling unafraid.”

“Very well put, Miss Evans,” Dumbledore says. He assesses them over his half-moon glasses. For a moment, his fingers skim the edge of the other piece of parchment. “And --- it is a lovely tribute to your friend.”

Lily nods, defiant. His gaze turns back to James.

“ I assume it would be possible for us Professors to have a --- copy of what has been distributed?”

“Absolutely,” James says, brightly. “We’ll get right on it.”

“This was a remarkable demonstration of team work, bravery and some very sophisticated magic. I applaud you both. It’s rare that we see such tenacious commitment for our Head Boy and Girl, particularly given some of our, ah, history,” Dumbledore says, his twinkling merrily at James.

He remains entirely non-plussed, relaxed.

“You mean all the raucous misbehaving, Headmaster?” James says, “I’m a changed man these days.”

“I’m sure. One more thing before I let you go about your evenings, Mr Potter,” Dumbledore says, and fixes him with a piercing look. “I wondered --- if there might have been an original map that --- perhaps, inspired this rather ingenious idea?”

Lily feels her heart race increase.

To her astonishment, James barely reacts at all.

“Oh yes, there is.”

“May I see it?”

“Of course,” James says, and pulls a piece of parchment out of his pocket. He slides it across the table.

“The password?”

“Ah yes,” James says, he taps it with his wand and says, entirely straightfaced, “Slughorn’s knickers.”

Lily just barely swallows back her desire to laugh, a muted-strangled-noise emerging from her throat. Dumbledore just continues to smile indulgently as he pulls the pieces of parchment towards him. It’s more similar to their original map, yet entirely far from the complete article. She can see they have included a few more secret passages and hidden alcoves than they had on their Safety Pamphlet, where they’d apparently debated which were actually most helpful at great lengths, but they’ve removed any reference to any of the passages that lead to Hogsmeade; the grounds have been excluded entirely; there’s no moving figures.

They created a decoy.

And guarded it with Slughorn’s knickers.

“Fascinating,” Dumbledore says, and pushes it back towards him. “Perhaps one day yourself, Mr Black, Mr Lupin and Mr Pettigrew might indulge me with a few stories of how this map came to be.”

“Sounds brilliant, Professor,” James says, brightly, “Sirius will buy you a pint.”

“Something to look forward to,” Dumbledore says, and picks up his copy of the safety pamphlet. “I’ll ensure this gets back to Burrows.”

“Thanks, Sir.”

*

Lily waits until they’re half a corridor away before she rounds on him.

“Well,” James says, with this big, delightful smirk, “Remus said it’d be the second thing he asked.”

“Slughorn’s knickers, you ---”

“Brilliant, I know.”

“That was brilliant,” Lily says, and she’s laughing. “That was brilliant. I can’t believe you ---”

“ --- thought you knew us better by now, Lily.”

“Apparently not,” She says. She’s felt lighter since they’ve had something to work towards. Something to swing at, to do, to laugh about. These last two days have been triumphant.

“That went well, I think,” James says, his voice tilting into more serious, considered.

“Yes,” Lily agrees.

“You might even say we make quite a good team.”

“Might I?” Lily asks, archly. She would, though.

“Reckon so, Lily.” James says, pocketing his hands.

Lily huffs and doesn’t say anything, but she feels the back of her neck heat up all the same. They walk up enough flights of stairs in relative silence, veer left towards Gryffindor Tower.

“His face though,” James grins. “And I told you we weren’t going to get in any trouble.”

“Slughorn. Slughorn.” Lily says, shaking her head, “I have to face him tomorrow morning.”

"Should've heard Sirius’ suggestions,” James says, “The filth that man comes out with. I don’t think he was raised right.”

“You’re all total idiots,” Lily says. She gives the Fat Lady the password and steps into the common room. They're the last ones up. “Well, James. It was a pleasure not getting into trouble with you.”

“Goodnight, Lily,” James says, and then she ---

She reaches forward and hugs him. And then, for some unknown reason, she kisses him on the cheek.

“Goodnight,” she says, quickly, and makes a dash for the stairs up to the girl’s dormitories.

Chapter Text

Lily has spent the last forty minutes of her life watching Peter Pettigrew, James Potter and Sirius Black play a game similar to darts, using a batch of Hagrid’s Rock Cakes and a target they’d sprayed onto the wall of the Shrieking Shack with a can of whipped cream. It had been oddly transfixing and a slightly horrifying testament to Hagrid’s bakery skills that it had taken quite so long for the first one to lose its structural integrity, which apparently signified the end of the game. She has absolutely no idea if they’ve played this before, or where they got the whipped cream, but she’s learned that it’s generally best not to ask.

Sirius is still laughing as he deposits himself on the floor next to Remus. There’s a fairly significant amount of cream in his eyebrows. Remus is smirking, one of his understated-mischievous things, as he reaches forward. He doesn’t so much as wipe off the cream as rub it further into his eyebrow, and smear the stuff further across his forehead. Sirius grins, smiles in such a full-bodied way that some of his hair falls into his face. Remus tucks it behind his ear again.

“Do you two ever give it a rest?” Lily asks, picking at the label on her bottle. She regrets the question immediately, because it comes out with a sort of ungracious impatience that she doesn’t really mean. She’s always found them entertainingly sweet, but it feels like she’s surrounded by couples lately and it’s started to drive her completely mad.

She is glad that Roisin has taken to, occasionally, dragging Matthew to spend time in the Gryffindor Common Room and that they’ve settled into a new rhythm where things are entirely not like they were before, but they’re not actively avoiding each other. It’s just --- they seem to be surgically attached to each other, knees bumping, hands in each other’s hair, playing with each other’s fingers. At the same time, she’s been spending more time in the Marauder’s dorm room since they were working on the safety pamphlet. It was simply easier to be able to talk freely without having to think about anyone listening to them talking about sneaking out to go to the pub, or the map, or the full moon, and now it’s become a habit. She finds herself hanging out in their dormitory a lot, which means the dial is turned-up on Remus-and-Sirius hanging off each other. She’d never previously begrudged them of that. If anything, she’d have passionately argued against anyone who suggested they should be expected to tone anything down in the context of their own dormitory, and joined a sodding march for the cause that they shouldn’t feel the need to hide at all. And yet, she’s been finding herself slightly aggravated. The endless flirting, the cycle of Remus pretending to find him annoying while clearly enjoying all of the attention, the ridiculous proximity.

And then it’s everywhere else, too. There’s a couple of Gryffindor Fourth years who have been so entirely all-over-each-other in the Common Room that she’s been half tempted to interrupt them to give them a talk about birth control. She’d broken up three snogging-couples in her last patrol round the castle. Everyone, fucking everywhere, seems to be in love, or in the process of falling into it.

“No,” James says, without looking up from his game of exploding snap, “They don’t.”

“Never,” Peter agrees.

“It was worse before,” James says, “With all the pining and posturing. Passive aggressive. Then suddenly overnight they just start being nice to each other and expect us not to notice.”

“Fuck off,” Sirius says, but he sounds amused.

“Twenty four hours,” James says, “That’s how long it took to clock it. But no --- we go through the parade of, what was it? Three entire months of fake secrecy ---”

“---you were both very gracious.” Remus says. He’s got his fingers twisted up in the material of Sirius robes, the joint they’d smoked earlier having loosened their stance on privacy even further. It is genuinely very lovely, it’s just ---

Lily isn’t feeling very gracious to couples currently.

“Didn’t you institute a campaign of terror against the castle called ‘boo’?” Lily asks, arching an eyebrow.

“Don’t knock it Lily, that game led to our first date,” Sirius says, “Right here, on these hallowed grounds. Me, you, Moony and an excellent joint. On a night much like tonight, only now you don’t bite Prong’s head off if he breathes too loudly.”

“To be fair,” Peter says, setting down another card, “When he snores, I’d gladly bite his head off.”

“Unless I’m mistaken, our Lily hasn’t had much opportunity to experience the phenomena,” Sirius says, and levels her with a smirk pointed enough that she can feel herself go slightly pink. She flips him off and goes back to picking the label off her beer.

“Don’t be a berk,” Remus says, relatively quiet, prodding Sirius in the shoulder. Sirius makes a point of capturing his whole hand, then obnoxiously using it to pull him forward, so their foreheads knock together.

“We’ve lost them,” Peter says, glancing up from the exploding snap for a moment.

“Nevermind,” James comments, dry, “We’re the better looking ones anyway, Pete.”

“And you just --- leave them to it and keep playing snap, do you?” Lily asks.

The second comment is apparently enough to draw Sirius’ attention, and in one smooth, graceful movement he’s sat up, legs crossed, suddenly in the process of rolling another joint.

“Lonely are we Lily?”

“Fuck off, Sirius.” Lily bats back, but she uses that same humour-filled note, because she deserves it --- she hadn’t meant that second comment to slip out either, she’s just grumpy, currently -- and because anything else would suggest that he’s right, which isn’t entirely the case, but she suspects is slightly the case.

“When was your last date?” Sirius says, arching a brow. “Has there been anyone since O’Connor? Wait -- Two Hogsmeade trips with Tibbet at the beginning of Sixth Year, was it?”

“The first was an accident.” Lily says.

“Then O’Connor before that. Then it was --- a month of that Hufflepuff tosser. What was his name? With the dimples and the embarrassing bladder control.”

“That was James Aguamenting his crotch.” Remus says, taking the joint out of Sirius's hand and lighting it with a click of his fingers. He draws in a drag, before he hands it over. “There’s nothing wrong with his bladder, as far as I’m aware. Owens.”

“Riggght,” Sirius drawls. “Presumably Aubrey, at some point, given what you said about the Bubertuber incident.”

She is entirely sure neither of the others know about that, because he’s drawn an openly-curious look from Peter, and James has gone very still to pretend he’s not listening. It’s redundant, given they’re all sitting in the same, scratched-up dusty living room of their club house.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Lily asks, pointed.

“Any summer romances you know of, Moony? Interesting Muggles in Cokeworth?”

“I’m not playing this game.”

“Yes, then,” Sirius says, and proffers her the joint. He quirks an eyebrow up at her, assessing her. She takes it out of his hands. “Hm. Summer before Sixth, I’m guessing. Still, that’s quite the dry spell. If you’re desperate, Evans, I know a nice, gangly tosser of a Quidditch Captain who might be persuaded. Snores. Has at least three pairs of Snitch-Boxers.”

“Stop being a git, Padfoot,” James says, without looking up from his game of snap. He seems remarkably unaffected.

“What? That Burrows fellow is a catch,” Sirius says, “A Ravenswot, but you can’t have everything.”

“And what would you know about Burrow’s snoring?” Lily asks. “Or his underwear, for that matter.”

“Well, Evans, let me tell you a story ---” Sirius begins, eyes bright and alive. She laughs. Shakes her head. She’s saved what she’s sure would be a very creative story by the game of snap exploding.

It’s when they’re heading back up to the castle that Remus attempts to talk to her about it.

“Lily, if we’re, me and Sirius are making you---”

“No,” Lily says, “I was being a cow, Remus. Forget about it.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” She says, “Just —— in a bad mood. Grumpy. Ignore me.”

“Bet it’s —- ”

“If you’re about to say what I think you’re going to say, Sirius, I’d think better of it if you don’t want to be hexed.”

Sirius cackles, throws an arm over her shoulder and grins.

“You didn’t say I was wrong,”

“I really don’t have the time to tell you every time you’re wrong, Sirius. I’d be exhausted.”

James laughs.

“I’m not wrong,” Sirius says, in a pointed-undertone.

“Alright, Sirius, would you like me to talk about my periods?” Lily asks, pointedly. “My first one…”

“Christ,” Remus mutters, “Look what you’ve done now, Pads.”

“I’m interested,” James says, which renders them all completely silent for a long, awkward moment while it sinks in before Peter starts laughing.

“Suck up.” Sirius says.

“No,” James says, “I mean --- I’ve never really been properly friends with a girl, and no one ever really talks about it. Robins yelled at me about it, once, when I was giving her a hard time for being lousy in Quidditch training, but it wasn’t particularly informative. Well, it was a bit.” James carries on. Peter and Sirius are now both sniggering. “But it didn’t particularly invite further questions.”

“Well, that is a refreshingly mature approach,” Lily says, trying not to smile. “Perhaps a conversation for another time, James.”

“Suck up,” Sirius says again, in a sing-song voice. Lily causally pulls out her wand, eyeing him pointedly. “Wand out in the corridors, Evans. We’ve been a brilliant influence on you.”

‘How many detentions have you had this year, Sirius?”

“A handful, maybe,” Sirius says, “Five, six?”

“Remarkably low, really. You could argue that I’ve been a good influence on you.” Sirius laughs. “Or, perhaps you’re just accepting James’ authority as Head Boy. I bet that’s it. He’s gotten you being all sensible ---”

“Absolutely not,” Sirius says, rattled.

“It’s so sweet of you, Sirius, to support him like that.”

“No.”

“I’m really proud of you, actually. For putting your own desires on the back burner just because James ---”

“Make her stop it.” Sirius says, and it’s not clear whether he’s appealing to Remus or James, both of whom looking incredibly entertained.

“Like we could.” James says, dry.

“No,” Sirius says. “No, I’m going to go and --- land myself in detention right now.”

“Pads,” Remus says, but he’s smiling.

“I’m going to go and ---- turn Filch’s cat into a teapot. Break into McGonagall’s office and graffiti a giant cock -- do we have any of that cream left? I could throw rock cakes at Moaning Myrtle, have her flood the whole corridor again ---”

“None of these are very creative.”

“I”ll vanish the clothes off the portraits!” Sirius declares, which is exactly when they run into McGonagall.

“Will you, Black?”

“Evening, McGonagall.” Sirius says, with an exaggerated bow.

It is before curfew, but their evening activities aren’t exactly hidden. Lily’s quite sure they’ve brought with them the smell of weed and cigarettes. Sirius still has whipped cream encrusted in his eyebrows. James’ hair is a disaster. Pete’s hiding the remainder of Hagrid’s rock cakes in his pockets like their contraband.

McGonagall’s lips thin.

“Miss Evans, care to explain?”

“Caught them smoking out by the lake, Professor.” Lily says, putting her hand on her hip, putting on her disapproving look. “And insisted on accompanying them back to the castle before they could break any more rules, which Sirius seems quite determined to flout.”

“Detention, Black.” McGonagall says, “Potter, Pettigrew, Lupin. Tomorrow night. The contraband, Miss Evans?”

“Threw it in the lake,” Lily says, “I’ll ensure they get back to the Common Room before they cause any more trouble.”

She nods, curtly, and disappears.

“Make that seven detentions.” Remus says, dry, once they’re out of earshot. “Quickest you’ve ever delivered on a promise, Padfoot.”

“Un-fucking-believable,” Sirius mutters, his voice dark but impressed, “I didn’t know you could lie, Evans.”

“You’re brilliant,” James breathes.

“A dirty traitor,” Sirius agrees, “But brilliant.”

They’re all still laughing when they get back to the Fat Lady.

*

“Morning, Lily,” James says.

“Oh,” Lily says, looking up from her thoughts, “Morning, James.”

It’s early. She’d woken up at some point in the early hours and, after spending an age tossing and turning, had given it up as a bad job and come down to the Common Room with her robes thrown over her pyjamas. Wilberforth had been thrilled and she’d spent much of the last few hours scratching under his chin as he purred. It’s still much earlier than anyone else is awake and she’d been appreciating the solitude. Despite the size of the castle, sometimes it feels like it’s impossible to actually be alone.

“You alright?” James asks, his gaze skating over her. He’s got his broom in hand and he is, bizarrely, wearing those muggle shorts she remembered him pulling out from the summer. A Quidditch t-shirt.

Lily hums and shifts. Wilberforth gives her an irritated look and then jumps off her lap.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Lily says.

James half-nods. His hair is particularly wild this morning. His arms are on show. Actual man-arms that are usually obscured by robes. And ---

There are things that are bothering her about James Potter. He’s under her skin in a way that she’s been finding incredibly irksome, because she doesn’t know what it is.

She keeps thinking about the morning after she was attacked, when he was the one who stepped forward and ended up carrying her through the sodding corridors, and she hadn’t even questioned it at the time. James had been against the whole thing. He’d made it clear in the Hospital Wing that he’d much rather her stay being looked after than parade her defiance round the castle. Sirius could’ve done it. He’d have been strong enough, too, and he’d been an advocate for her madness, and until very recently she’d have been much more confident declaring Sirius to be her friend than James. And, fine, James ---- James is aware of her in a different way. He, as he puts it, ‘notices her’. She could ascribe the fact that James is the one who initially picked her up as just a result of him being more aware of the fact that she was beginning to struggle, being a bit more protective, but ---

She’d been the one who’d requested James accompany her back to the Hospital Wing when she’d started bleeding again. She hadn’t gone to Sirius, who she’d been feeling incredibly close to at that moment, and she has absolutely no idea why.

She doesn’t know when James managed to move himself from the category of ‘someone whose existence aggravates her’ to ‘someone she tolerates’ to someone ---

Someone she’s perfectly happy to find her alone in the Common Room at six in the morning when she’d very much enjoyed being on her own.

“Was going to go for a fly,” James says, somewhat unnecessarily. His hand drifts to his hair. He seems to be caught in indecision for a moment, before the words make it out of his mouth. “You could come if you want?”

“Okay,” Lily says, before she’s really thought it through. James blinks. Lily blinks. “I mean ---- I don’t have a broom.”

“Uh,” James says, and then he’s turning slightly pink. “Well, I bought my spare this year.”

Lily can feel herself colouring. They’d -- well. Over the summer, in those last few weeks where they’d adopted her, they’d all done quite a bit of flying in the Potters back garden. Remus had commented that it was somewhat mandatory, and Sirius had made some jab about how James came out on hives if he stayed on the ground too long. She’d borrowed his spare broom then. She’d enjoyed herself more than she’d expected to.

“I’m not really dressed.” Lily says, deliberately not looking at his eyes.

“Well I’ll ---- go get that spare and wait.” James says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his shorts.

“Okay,” Lily says, staring at him.

“Okay,” James echos back. They look at each other for a few moments more before Lily manages to shake herself into motion.

They’re quiet as they trudge down to the grounds together. Before around six months ago, she’d have been fairly confident that James Potter didn’t have the capacity to be quiet. She’s so used to him being loud, the centre-of-attention, always halfway through performing some kind of joke, but she’s come to learn that’s only a small part of the picture.

And ---

Lily had gone to James about distributing Amy’s revised eulogy. She hadn’t spoken to Remus, or Sirius, or Peter, who would’ve all been entirely logical choices. They’d all helped. The end result was the same, but it --- James had been her first thought.

She supposes it’s in part because they’ve had to be working together. That it’s because they’ve spent so much time together lately.

It’s great to push off the ground and leave it all behind. Cathartic. It’s an exceptionally nice morning for October, bright and crisp. The forest is turning golden and red, and she gets a renewed appreciation of it as they skim the edges, fly over the top of the trees. The air rushing past her face makes everything else seem small. It’s easy to stop overthinking and just follow James’ path.

Obviously, he’s an incredibly confident flyer and she’s sure that he’d be going much faster, doing more dives and swoops, if she wasn’t there. They start out relatively slow and safe, but eventually he creeps upwards, upwards, much higher than she’d have dared on her own. Then he gives the impression of completely disappearing. She draws up short, mid-air. They’d be twisting between the turrets and ---

He’s sitting on a flat section of roof, nestled between the jut of the Astronomy Tower and a slope that she thinks might be above that big, unused classroom near the Divination classrooms. It’s sheltered with an exceptional view over the lake, with the forest stretching behind it. She feels slightly unsteady as she follows suit and dismounts, suddenly very aware of how high they are. It passes once she’s sat down, the stone underneath her feeling solid. She draws her knees up to her chest.

“Wow,” Lily says, as she looks out the grounds. It had only just started to get light when they’d left the castle, but now the day’s lit up in earnest.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” James says, gaze fixed above the trees. “Come up here to think sometimes.”

“Makes my attempt at solitude seem a little --- inadequate.”

“Oh, were you --- sorry if I interrupted.”

“You didn’t,” Lily says, “You’re fine, James.”

“Lily,” James says, after they’ve sat in the quiet for a little while, “What’s the deal with you and Roisin? Are you --- done fighting now?”

“I’m not sure we were ever fighting,” Lily says, “We just weren’t talking.”

“But now you are?” James says. Lily nods, tucks some more of her hair behind her ear. “Good.” He nods, then seems to chew over his next words. “I worried --- I thought if you sorted it out we might not see you as much anymore. I’m --- glad you did. I just… I like having you around.”

“Well,” Lily says, “To my surprise --- I like being around.”

James exhales. She risks looking at him, and there’s this smile that’s hooked at the corner of his mouth. It feels entirely too much, so she picks at a loose threat on her sock, and tries not to think too much in case she unravels like that thread. She’ll start to ask questions like: why did she agree to go on a morning-fly with James Potter when he has previously implied that he loves her; why does she feel horribly appalled by the idea of disappointing him these days; why did she feel slightly exposed and twitchy when she was writing a letter to her Mum and she realised she was writing ‘James’ for the third time and then re-read the whole thing, and counted how many times Remus and Sirius and Peter had snuck into the narrative too, just to make it feel less.

“Rosin --- Amy was her best friend,” Lily says, “And I was part of them as a group, but I didn’t --- I don’t think either of us can fill all the gaps up without Amy. With Jane off in Germany. It’s not that I don’t love her to pieces, I just…” Lily sighs. “She’s always thought I only partially invest in it. Them. She’s probably right.”

“You’ve always been --- a bit friends with everyone.”

“Yes,” Lily says, and she furrows her forehead. “Sometimes, James, I think Severus really messed me up. And Petunia.”

“Your sister,” James says, and he’s watching her with this easy kind of curiosity and patience. She has no real idea why she’s talking, but the words keep coming out.

“We used to be really close,” Lily says, “She hates magic. Hates it. Hates me by proxy. And I --- I don’t know. Being part of the Wizarding World has never felt secure. It felt like I lived on top of these tectonic plates, that any minute, the world might shift underneath me again --- that people I thought were my people might suddenly… be ashamed to eat breakfast with me in public, call me a freak for some intrinsic part of me and --- given that, I suppose it felt safer not to rely on any individual person too much.”

“That’s understandable,”

“Maybe,” Lily says, “But you --- you lot --- you took all your tectonic plates and melded them together to make your own private island.”

James laughs at that.

“I suppose it was a bit like that,” He says, leaning back.

“Almost instantly,” Lily says, “Day three and you were --- blood-brothers, an oath of loyalty. Used to be a bit --- jealous of it.” Lily says, and it’s the first time that she’s ever said it out loud. That some of her antagonism with the lot of them came from the fact that they reeked of this sense of belonging and camaraderie that she was desperate for.

“That’s a mad concept,” James says, “I’d’ve put good money that thirteen year old Lily Evans felt nothing but animosity to the lot of us. Well, except Remus.”

“I’ve always considered how much you’re obviously nuts about him to be a redeeming quality.” Lily says, which gets her half a grin. “But I think I was a tad unfair.”

“I was a bit of an idiot.”

“Well, yes,” Lily says, pointedly. “I won’t argue with that.”

“Are you allright, Lily?” James asks, his voice more serious, gentle, and that’s the question isn’t it.

Lily’s not altogether sure that she is. Everything has felt growingly unstable. These last few months have shaken her and the hits keep coming. She’s just about keeping up with it all, and the thing is, the things that feel --- steadiest, most secure, most appealing to depend on are entirely not the things she thought they would be.

“Yes,” She says, and then wrings her hands together, keeps talking. “My Mum --- she wrote to me earlier this week. They think my Dad might be sick. They’re doing tests.”

“Like when they did tests for Moony’s Mum?” James asks, and he shifts in a way that puts them shoulder-to-shoulder which Lily isn’t sure is purposeful or not. Despite his t-shirt, his skin is very warm.

“Yes.” Lily says, and looks back out over the grounds. “Exactly like that.”

James exhales heavily. Lily focuses very intently on the line of the trees. She should be talking to Remus about this for precisely that reason, and she’d had a perfectly good opportunity yesterday when they’d been patrolling. She hadn’t, though. The words had gotten stuck in the back of her throat, so she’d assumed they were going to just stay there for a while. Until she had more to say, perhaps. Until she had more of an idea of what she felt about it.

“What a bloody awful few months.” James says.

“Really awful,” Lily agrees. “My sister’s gotten engaged, though, so that’s --- good news. Theoretically. She’s happy.”

“Petunia and the Walrus.”

“Vernon,” Lily says, “Vernon Dursley.”

“Sounds like a kind of skin condition,” James says. Lily laughs, despite herself, and then, of course, it feels a lot like she might cry. She falters. James wraps an arm around her shoulders. She folds into it.

That’s new too. And it’s --- irksome that she feels so conscious of it, because it’s not like she hasn’t recently also taken to hugging Sirius. Remus has always accepted her hugging him, even if he was generally too awkward to actually initiate them, and she’d never been very aware of that. It was never strange. She’s hugged Peter sometimes, too, which means it shouldn’t be a big deal to have James’ arm over her shoulders. Hell, it had been the pair of them that had sandwiched Peter into a hug when he’d gotten tear-y around Jane at the pub, tag-teaming to cheer him up while Sirius-and-Remus had been smoking outside, and that had all been perfectly normal.

To be fair, she hadn’t kissed any of them on the cheek. She’s relatively sure the only people she’s ever kissed on the cheek until that incident were her parents. She still feels vaguely embarrassed and hot whenever she thinks about it, even though James hadn’t made a big thing of it at all.

“Sorry,” Lily blinks. “What I would like is to catch a break.”

“Win the muggle lottery.”

“Yes,” Lily says, “And then buy myself a big hospital to work at and employ all the brilliant Muggleborns.”

“Brilliant,” James agrees, “And then — Voldemort can fall over a pot plant and sprain his ankle.”

“And he’ll come into my hospital and I shall point out that it’s all, really, much nicer if we forget about all the murder and, I don’t know, do a jigsaw.”

“He’ll be blown away.”

“And I’ll have him turn all those awful Death Eater masks into marshmallows that make you happy and stop you hating everyone,” Lily says, “And we can make that Dark Mark —- ”

“—- explode into glitter.”

“Yes,” Lily agrees, “And it’ll be the symbol of having done a really good deed for someone, like breaking into their house to do all their laundry, or clean the bin.”

“People clean bins?” James asks, alarmed. Lily laughs in a way that draws them closer.

“Not everyone has a house elf.”

“But you put all your rubbish in it. That must be disgusting.”

“That’s exactly why my Knights of Walsall — that’s a town near my parents — will be heralded as such good blokes. Dirt Eaters.”

“I think you’ve cracked it.”

“Or I’m cracked.” Lily says, “Started to sound like one of you lot.”

“There are worse things.”

“That’s true,” Lily says, and she leans more under his arm.

She has fun with James. With the lot of them. In the midst of all of it, he’s been there for all the best moments: that day laughing at the beach, as Sirius goaded her into swimming in the sea and immediately chucked water in her face when she’d gotten in, James laughing behind her; that pool tournament at the pub on the edge of Soho; the triumph of walking into the Great Hall and seeing Amy beam from the ceiling; hanging out together in the shack. He’s also been there for a lot of all the very worst stuff, consistently, quietly there. She doesn’t know what to do with that.

“I’m not sure I can face anyone else today.” Lily says.

“Well,” James says, “I could fly down and get some breakfast, bring it up here, and then —- classes probably aren’t the point of school, right? I reckon we could hide until at least lunch.”

“Brilliant,” Lily says, and then squeezes his arm when he looks like he might actually do it. “James. I might actually freeze. And if you leave me on a roof I’ll probably fall off and die, it’s --- fine.”

“You wouldn’t. You're really great on a broom.”

“You just see potential Quidditch players everywhere,” Lily says.

“Nope,” James says, “Moony’s a lost cause. You -- you’re actually good.”

Lily huffs a laugh. James’ arm is still pressed against her back.

“Lily,” James says, low, and she turns to look at him and he’s --- incredibly steadfast. Reliable. James Potter loves people in spades, in an utterly generous, ridiculous sort of way that he doesn’t seem to notice. She can’t really believe it took her so long to realise that he takes care of people and she —— the problem is at the moment that all seems very —— appealing.

There’s a question in the curve of his eyebrow and she does not have an answer to it. She should. She has a strong suspicion that she’s not being very fair. All of it means so much to James, which means she probably shouldn’t be watching the sodding sunrise with him up on the roof, under his arm, but —

She’s partially holding herself up right on her arm, which makes her palm stretched out across the stone millimetres from his thigh. She’s made the mistake of looking at him now, which means she’s very aware of the shape of his jaw, that slightly nervous, unsure tilt of his mouth, eyelashes, his breathing.

She drifts even closer. She hooks a finger in the belt hoop of his shorts and looks at him — and he’s, mouth slightly open in surprise, not blinking, has possibly stopped breathing altogether —- and she could, she might ---

Lily exhales sharply and looks away. She pulls herself out from under his arm.

“We should get back,” Lily says. “Breakfast.”

“Right.” James says, clearing his throat. “Sure. Breakfast.”

The return flight then walk through the and castle back up to the Common Room is an awkward, stilted sort of quiet. Lily suddenly wants to get away from him as quickly as possible in order to recalibrate. Think. They’re fighting the crowds coming back the other way, attracting curious looks, which is exactly what she does not need.

“Thanks for lending me this,” Lily says, thrusting it back at him. James has confusion pinched into his brow, an odd look on his face. He grips hold of her wrist before she can disappear up the stairs. “What?” Lily demands, her voice coming out harsh and heated.

He drops his hold on her, hand disappearing into his hair. He glances around, there’s too many people. It’s really not an ideal forum to have this conversation, but then she doesn’t want to have it at all. She would like to surrender any notion of bravery and run away.

“Lily,” he says, in this hushed, pained tone. “What was that?”

She suspects the answer was a date, but she doesn’t think that’s what James is actually asking. Me nearly kissing you also doesn’t help.

She folds her arms over her chest and stares at him.

Confusion manifesting itself? An unkind, unintentional side effect of being sad and feeling lonely? A mistake? Some horrible mishap? Or, as Sirius once put it, James ‘finally worming his way in’?

She doesn’t know how she feels about any of it.

And James doesn’t actually deserve to be drawn into her chaos. One thing she’s sure of, is that James Potter is actually, under all of the ego, really quite decent.

“I don’t know.” Lily says, some muted heat packed into her voice. She’s purposefully not looking him in the eye. It feels incredibly reckless to say that much.

“You don’t,” James begins, blinks. “You don’t know.”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t,” James repeats again, searching over face, “Know.”

“Exactly.”

“Lily,” James says, slow, cautious. “Does that --- indicate. Imply. That at some point you might ---- you might know?”

“I don’t know.” Lily says, impatient, because if she knew that it would all be incredibly fucking simple, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t bloody know. She’s been trying to work it out whenever she’s had the bandwidth to try and deal with it, but mostly it’s just swirled around into more confusion, making her irritated and annoyed with herself.

“You don’t know,” James says, and then with slight wonder in his voice. “You don’t know.”

The way his whole posture changes with the barest glimmer of hope is awful. She can feel her lungs contract, this pressure. Her shoulders square, she draws further into herself.

“James.”

“Fine. Great.” James nods, hand in his hair as he tries to take that in. She wants to reach out and stop him from always, maddeningly messing it up even further. “When might you know?”

“James, I literally don’t ---”

“--- don’t know, right. Got it,” James carries on, nodding. “Well, let me know.”

Lily huffs.

“I will.”

“As soon as you know.”

“Yes, fine.”

“Whatever you end up knowing,” James says. “Either way.”

“James. I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” Lily says, the words having to be dragged out through gritted teeth. They bounce off him. Currently, he’s giving off the impression that bullets might bounce off him.

“Oh. Don’t worry about me.”

“James,” She says, her voice tight, and that seems to get his attention. His brow creases.

“That’s my responsibility,” James says, lower, more serious. “Really. Don’t let that —- influence you.”

“And you won’t hate me.”

“Never.”

They look at each other for a long while. They’re quite close together. Her throat feels thick. She’s still glad he showed up, pulled her out of her head. She’s still—- she thinks she might want to —-

“James,” Lily says, “Don’t try to help me know. You’ll make it worse.” James takes this in, nods. “Just --- be your normal self, when you’re not trying too hard.”

“Right,” James agrees, “Yep.”

“And don’t —- keep bringing it up.”

“Yep,” James agrees again, “Standard operating, got it.”

“And just --- don’t push it. Me. Leave it be.”

‘Quaffle’s in your hands, Lily.”

“Okay,” Lily says.

“Okay,” James nods, “Meet you in five for breakfast?”

She’d been fully intending to run away and hide from him for awhile. She suspects that he’s fully aware of that, that his suggestion is partially calculated, but she also has no idea how to get out of it.

“Okay.” Lily says.

He’s surprisingly normal when they walk down for breakfast, and then they both fold themselves into different ends of the group. The only evidence of their conversation is that he’s in a particularly good mood. Enough that Sirius comments on it, poking him in the shoulder and saying ‘what’s got you so sodding chirper, Prongs?” James merrily spears a sausage on his fork, tilts his head slightly. He doesn’t look at her, but he does say ‘you know what, Sirius. I don’t know’ in such a way that Lily ends up smiling into her breakfast.

*

She writes to Alice.

She agonises over every word, concludes she needs some space, then extracts herself from them for a few days to process.

She’s surprised that James just lets her.

*

Lily’s reason for being in the Boy’s dormitories is relatively tenuous: Peter had wanted her opinion on a letter to Jane he’s been agonising over and Lily mentioned Sirius had been quizzing her about a certain potion they’d been brewing that seemed to be misbehaving. She’d been the one that suggested she could come and check on the potion at the same time. As such, she ends up sitting on the flipped-shut toilet seat, steadily stirring their healing potion — which was definitely about to congeal and become useless, although why they’ve chosen to attempt brewing an incredibly difficult healing potion next to their toilet is beyond her— as she reads through Peter’s letter. He’s perched on the edge of the sink, offering her an anxious commentary that makes it quite hard to pay attention, but she’s relatively sure her role in this is more moral support than anything else. Pete’s fretting over how to strike the right balance of support and sympathy and, in his words, ‘not being a creep’ is quite sweet: his oscillating between telling himself ‘she did say she missed me’ and ‘but --- I know she finished it with me’ while Lily hums and offers sympathetic murmurings. She is just self-aware enough to know that the real reason that she’s found herself hanging out in the boys sodding bathroom is that she was ready to stop avoiding James and, even though she doesn’t know where he is, this indicates some kind of intention to the universe.

The rest of them arrive with a great deal of noise, which is not uncommon, but there’s a certain urgency in their loudness which has both of them abandoning their station in the bathroom.

Remus is bodily helping James into the room. James’ looks pale, his breath is ragged. He mutters a congealed ‘shit’ as Remus situates him on the edge of the bed. Sirius had been the one to get the door open, this stony, dark expression, but the second he’s sitting Sirius starts helping James tug his robes off his shoulder and he’s ---- bleeding.

Really bleeding.

“Oh, afternoon Lily, didn’t realise you’d started hanging about in our toilet,” James says, but he’s wincing in pain as Sirius peels off the robes off his skin, his attention fixed and --- there’s a big deep gash across James’ ribs. The skin around it is bloodied and raw. “Sorry about this,” He says. “Do we have ---?”

“No,” Sirius says, voice stony, “Unless Lily fixed it.”

“No, it’s ---” Lily says, her eyes fixed on James’ skin. The blood. “You cannot use that.”

“Dittany,” Pete says, and then he’s rumbling through the bathroom cabinet. He pulls out cloth and bandages like all of this is normal, all of them --- surprisingly calm --- both of them surge across the room, all of them standing in a tight circle around James. Except Remus, who's taken a step back, looking entirely like the only one impacted at all, something complicated in his jaw.

“Right,” Sirius says, moving to take the cloth out of Pete’s hand. “That git.”

“You can’t --- Sirius,” Lily begins, taking them before Sirius can and kneeling beside the bed for reasons she doesn’t have the space in her head to dissect currently --- it’s just apparently if there’s someone going to be doctoring at James Potter it’s going to be her, she is unable to stand by idly and watch --- pressing the cloth against the wound. It comes away bloody entirely too quickly. She sucks in a sympathetic breath.

“Lily wants to be a Healer,” James says, conversationally. It’s very James to be chatting rubbish while he’s bleeding all over her fingers.

“Good of you to give her some practice, Prongs,” Sirius says, already stepping back, attempting to tug Remus in his direction. Peter passes her the essence of dittany. She starts to apply it, a turquoise smoke rising off his skin. James lets out a ragged breath. He’s looking at the ceiling, a hand fisted in the sheets. She watches as it scabs over, the blood-flow slowing, leaving an angry red raw cut.

“Is this --- is this diluted? The smoke should be greener --- and it isn’t ---”

“Ah, it’s…”

“Special recipe. We nicked it from Monty.” Sirius says, “It’s fine, Evans.”

“Well it isn’t ---” She says, her hand pressed above the wound to get a look at it. His skin is hot. It’s a significant, hefty scratch, but on closer inspection there’s three lines: one deepest, framed by two others. “It should --- heal better than this. Faster. If it --- you need to go to the Hospital Wing.”

“Uh, no,” James says, “That would be --- not a good idea.”

“What ---?” Lily begins. “James, you have to ---”

Behind her, she’s vaguely aware of the others having a conversation.

“Which git?” Peter asks, voice low. There’s an exchange of looks, a heavy sigh. Remus is standing very still in the centre of the room, seemingly entirely unaware of Sirius’ attempts to tug at his sleeves. Her thoughts catch on some of it, a pertinent question floating to the surface.

“Someone -- did this to you?” Lily says, halfway between a statement and a question. Of course, that was always the most likely explanation but —

“I’m fine, Lily, nothing to worry about,” James says, brightly. He’s attempting to pull away. Lily has his blood all over her fingers. She swallows and wipes them on a cloth.

“James ---” Lily says.

“I’m really alright. Stopped bleeding and everything.” James says, and they look at each other for a charged moment and she becomes aware that she’s just --- that she’d just very much invaded his space, invaded whatever this is, and had her hands all over skin. She clears her throat, stands up. She makes a move towards the bathroom to wash her hands properly. James is rising, following on her heels.

“You have to speak to Pomfrey, James. A teacher. it’s ---”

“It’s sweet of you to worry, but ---”

“That’s sensible, not sweet---” Lily snaps back, hands up the tap. The water runs pink.

“It can be both, can’t it?”

“You’re still --- covered in your own blood,” She says, impatient with worry. She soaks the cloth. “And you ---”

It’s mostly bad luck that means she hears it. Sirius, his voice dark and gritty and barely above a whisper, just managing to carry across to where she’s standing. “Fucking Sniverllus.” That spears her attention the way that awful, horrible nickname always does, because she still hates it. Even after everything, it has her hackles rising, her attention dialed right up to maximum.

She turns off the tap just in time to hear Peter’s low, return hiss.

“You think he’d be a bit more grateful, given James saved his life.”

“Severus did this?” Lily asks, her voice is already hot and dangerous. That sodding nickname has the power to do it anyway, without the fact that James is bleeding --- and either it’s shitty dittany or there’s some dark magic behind it, because it should not still look so raw -- and that’s another reminder of how involved Severus is in all of this; the fact that they all still antagonise each other; the fact that Severus probably blackmailed some twelve year old into providing a witness statement when she was left bleeding in the corridors; and then there’s all the other questions that are beginning to make themselves very loud in her head.

None of this makes any sense.

James’ expression has gone very still, some of his normal cockiness disappearing. It changes his whole face: the quirk of his eyebrows, the line of his mouth, the exact angle he holds his chin. It makes him look older.

“No,” James says, his voice low, “No, he ---”

“Sirius,” Lily demands, stalking back into the main dormitory.

“Lily, he hexed me, accidentally got me where I’d already been --- I was already hurt, alright? He didn’t mean to -- well, not ---”

“You’ve been walking around with that?” Lily demands.

“It was alright before Snape --” Sirius begins, his voice that horrible, disdainful sneer. There’s cruelty in it.

“It wasn’t his fault, Sirius.” Remus says. He’s deadly flat, still. Hard.

“More him than any ---”

“Someone,” Lily says, interrupting him cold, the word loud and sharp enough that Sirius’ jaw clips shut, “Needs to tell me what is going on. Right. Now.” They fall silent. None of them even look at each other. They’re still. The silence is thick, this dreadful tension suffocating. “Talk, James, or we’re going right to McGonagall and then ---”

“Lily,” James says, his voice strained, slightly desperate. She’s thrown back to James trying to defend his reluctance about the map. That torn-up side-stepping until he’d eventually cracked, spilt some tiny measure of truth in an attempt to placate her. Could you… trust me? Maybe?

“Why do you have dittany and bandages in your bathroom?” Lily demands.

“Good to be prepared, Evans.” Sirius says.

“Why?” Lily asks, her gaze flicking to Peter. “You're brewing a healing potion in the toilet.”

“Well after,” James begins, wets his lip with his tongue. He’s still pale. He’s still walking round with his robes hanging open, his cut-up-scarred abs on show. He swallows. “Well after what happened to you, we thought it might be --- helpful, to have a supply.”

She doesn’t believe him. He’d hesitated too much before he’d carried on, the guilt of exploiting it too much for him to pull it off. He’s lying to her.

“We were doing something we shouldn’t’ve been when James got hurt,” Sirius says, quick, a bit impatient.

“Obviously, I’m not an idiot.” Lily says, “What?”

“None of your business,” He says, and his voice is cutting and sharp. She hasn’t had that kind of vitriol directed at her from Sirius for a very long time. It stings. She feels her anger expand, her shoulders square.

“Lily,” James says, conciliatory.

He’s lying.

“What do you mean James saved Snape’s life?” Lily demands, hand on her hip. The silence is ringing, tense. No one speaks for a long time.

Remus, who’s barely said anything since he entered the room, is the one who breaks it.

“A --- a long time ago,” Remus begins. He’s not looking at her. He’s not looking at any of them, speaking the words directly to the floor. Sirius bristles.

“Mate ---” James interrupts, in this low, urgent voice.

“A long time ago,” Remus repeats again, this time pointed. Sirius directs a kick at the foot of the nearest bed -- Peter’s --- then slumps down onto the edge of it. He agitatedly balls his hands into fists, then stretches them out, starts picking as his cuticles. Remus does not react to any of it. “Sirius told Snape how to unlock the passage to the Shrieking Shack.”

Lily stares at him.

“Sirius --- advised him that it would answer certain questions that he’d been --- consistently goading us with. Goading me. About me.”

Sirius is hunched over himself, jaw square. He’s always had this ridiculous, arrogant pureblood-posture, giving off this impression of never having questioned his entitlement to take up space. She has never seen him drawn into himself, a groove etched into his forehead. It’s horrible. Lily doesn’t know how to look away from it.

“It was the day of a full moon. Snape, not quite realising he was walking into ---”

“No,” Lily says, the horror of it making the word spill out of her mouth, rising up out of stomach on instinct.

Remus carries on like she hasn’t spoken. There’s something robotic and matter of fact about it.

“When Sirius told James what he’d done, he --- James. followed him to the Shack and dragged --- Snape to safety.”

“He deserved it.” Sirius says, his voice spilling out, dark and cruel. Desperate.

“Sirius,” James says, his voice sharp.

“He was threatening to tell everyone if he had proof ---”

“I think,” Remus says, “If I had murdered him, the end result might have been the same.”

“I didn’t think the idiot would ----”

“We’re not talking about this again.” Remus says, his voice firmer and deadlier than Lily has ever heard it. Remus Lupin is always, reliably kind and affable. Generally, operating on a default of easy-amusement. She’s especially never heard him use this tone with Sirius.

Sirius shuts his jaw.

“He could have died.” Lily breathes, the shock of it ablaze in her lungs. And --- every time she thinks she is fully, absolutely, completely done with Severus Snape, something happens that kicks-up this reminder that they were friends, that he taught her so much about this world, that she understands so much of his fear and his struggles and his pain. The idea of a werewolf tearing him apart appals her. For a moment, she can feel the shadow of the loss, how complicated that grief would feel… and then her thoughts twist to Remus, to Remus, how utterly wretched he’d feel, how it would obliterate any chance of —- what would’ve happened to him, if --- She turns on Sirius.“How could you?”

“Lily,” Remus says, that same firm voice, “This was a long time ago.”

Fifth year. The second he says it she can pin it back in history. That mystery never-discussed fight between Remus-and-Sirius, Remus hiding himself amongst Lily and her friends, James and Peter taking turns to join them. And, of course, back then she’d heard the other partial-side from Severus too, although she hadn’t known it. It had certainly felt that their antagonism had reached a fever-pitch, that Severus was forever verbally eviscerating them, that they were always --- duelling, hexing, being utterly fucking awful to each other whenever they had a chance. It wasn’t long before he’d spat out the word Mudblood and she hadn’t been able to tolerate it anymore.

“How could --?”

“It is forgiven.” Remus says.

“No,” Lily says, “You ----”

“Of course,” Sirius says, his voice bitter and full of this awful rage. “You would side with your precious Snape ---”

“Sirius, it’s not about sides,” James says.

“For months,” Sirius says, “He was at it, sniffing around, trying to work out how to out him, determined that he’d get Remus thrown out of school. Hissing it at him in corridors that his time was limited, like Remus ever did anything to him ---- all because he’s a hateful little toad, and he didn’t like the fact that James fancied his girlfriend----”

“No,” Lily says, shaking her head, “That isn’t --- that didn’t happen.”

“It did.” Remus says, calmly.

“No, he----”

“I can’t believe you’re still defending him, Evans.”

“Look,” James says, his voice loud and authoritative, “I think everyone just needs to --- calm down, a minute. This is no one’s favourite topic of conversation, allright? Lily --- we all understand why you’re upset. Snape——” Sirius makes a derisive noise. James shoots him a look. “—- was your friend, and we all know how much you care about Remus.”

“Is that what it looks like?” Sirius scoffs. “Care.”

Her heart’s beating very fast. She’s looking at Remus now, horrified.

“I didn’t know he was doing that.”

“I know, Lily.”

“I didn’t know he ——” Lily begins, desperate. “He told me he suspected and I —- I always told him he was wrong, Remus, I covered for you, I tried to keep him away —”

“Didn’t give him a heads up though,” Sirius says. “Warn him that ---”

“I didn’t know.”

“Well if you were any cop at being a friend you would’ve done.” Sirius snaps, icy.

“Sirius,” James says, sharp, angry. “Stop being out of order.”

“And you’d know all about being a good friend would you?” Lily demands back, “Is that what it looks like? Risking ruining someone you love’s life —-?”

“Enough.” Remus says, standing up. “James is right. Everyone needs to calm down.”

Sirius is the first of them to get up and walk out.

Lily stares at all of them in the aftermath of his exit. Peter, looking unsure and awkward to the left, Remus’ set, grim expression, James somewhere between shock and regret. He lied to her, she’s sure of it, and he’s not quite meeting her eyes and ---

Lily folds her arms over her chest and follows suit, the door slamming shut behind her.

Chapter Text

Remus comes to find her in her dormitory.

She’s sitting at the head of her bed with her knees drawn to her chest. He stops short two paces into the room, then forces himself back into motion then sits next to her, just far enough away that they don’t touch.

“They got rid of their beds,” Remus says, quietly. Lily nods. The whole room had shrunk, actually. The space contracting to reflect the fact that there’s now only five Seventh Year Gryffindors. It had been entirely disorientating, and then it had hurt. That first night back in the dormitories it had felt like the room might continue to shrink, till Lily was squeezed out of existence. She doesn’t really blame Roisin for taking one look and being unable to tolerate it. By now, she’s almost stopped noticing it, except for the odd-moment where muscle memory has her trying to avoid a bed that’s no longer there when she’s padding to the bathroom in the dark. “That makes sense. Why you’ve been avoiding being here.”

Lily swallows past the lump in the back of her throat. She hadn’t realised quite how obvious she’d been. She absolutely does not want to talk about it.

“How did you get up the stairs?” She asks instead, as if it matters, but it shifts them away from Amy, onto safer topics.

“Werewolf,” Remus says, “Charm doesn’t work.”

Lily sniffs. There’s a joke to be made about that, something about a wasted benefit, but she can’t bring herself to get to it.

“Remus,”

“That topic doesn’t present us at our best,” Remus says, with an attempt at levity that doesn’t quite land. She’s only been gone for five minutes. He didn’t leave it long. She’s only just had time to turn it all over in her head, begin to try and understand what just happened, calm down sufficiently that she doesn’t feel like actually yelling anymore.

And of course, Sirius is right.

Ignorance isn’t an excuse. She’d levelled that at James previously -- that he had an obligation to look beyond his own little world and see how his behaviour affected other people and she’d --- she’d always considered herself to be a bit-of-a-martyr in her friendship with Remus Lupin. That she put more into it than he did. That she was very much his second choice when the others were busy. That she was being incredibly generous and righteous by ignoring Remus’ silent-witness routine whenever it came to them being awful to Snape, or whenever Remus failed to stop James from humiliating her again. She’d given herself credit for overlooking all of it, had occasionally judged herself for it, and all the while, she’d been --- defending, friends with, protecting someone who was threatening something really serious. It’s beyond some stupid, childhood bullying, it’s --- hate-filled. And Remus never did do anything to him. Fine, he didn’t stop it either, but he didn’t --- she hasn’t known him to serve up a single insult, to ever lift his wand. Remus has never tried to antagonise Snape. He just existed.

Of course Sirius initially didn’t like her. At this moment, she isn’t sure that she likes her.

Remus has deserved better from her. He deserved much more. He deserves more than all of it, from all of them.

Of course, Sirius is horribly wrong too, and she --- she doesn’t know how to reconcile that. She’d allowed herself to forget about all those sharp edges she’d seen from Sirius in the past. Written off a few off-colour remarks as him being ‘thorny’, not that he --- Sirius can be cruel. Reckless.

“Remus,” Lily says, “I’m --- I’m so sorry.” He half-shakes his head, doesn’t quite make it to words. “I didn’t know. I didn’t --- if you’d said, I’d ---”

She’d laid down the laws of their friendship. You don’t need to apologise for your friends and I won’t apologise about mine. But she does. She does need to apologise for him.

“We hadn’t spoken about it, Lily,” Remus says. He’s assessing his hands. And of course, that’s true. The word ‘werewolf’ hadn’t been spoken between them until last year. She’d been sure he was aware she knew. He’d given up any real attempt at making any of his lies believable and Lily never pressed, no matter how stupid it was. She’d perpetuated that rumour that Remus had a terribly behaved, vicious-rabbit --- furry little problem -- amongst the Gryffindor girls, claiming it was a rabbit-Quintaped cross-breed. He’d caught her eye once while she was at it, and smirked into his toast, but she hadn’t --- of course he couldn’t have told her, she’d set it up that way, so that their friendship only existed in a vacuum. She’d thought that was fine.

“Remus, I hate this. All of it.”

“Yes,” Remus agrees, “We don’t talk about it much.”

“Sirius, he doesn’t even feel bad ---”

“He does,” Remus says.

“He said ---”

“ --- Lily,” Remus says, cutting across her, “Don’t. Please.”

Lily’s gaze darts over him, taking in the pinched expression in his brow, the pain in his face. Her instinct is to grasp at some awful accusatory truth -- even after all of this, Remus still picks them first, him first --- but it isn’t really fair. Remus is here, when she’d fully expected him to have followed Sirius wherever he disappeared, and --- they’re in a relationship. Of course he’s defending him.

That all happened after this. After all of that, Remus ---

“I just don't understand how you could --- forgive him.” Lily says, softer, quieter, the heat dropped out of her voice.

“You know exactly why,” Remus says, and there’s pain in it. He loves him. That permeates past her initial shock, so that she's able to see past her own feelings. To begin to grasp how… uncomfortable Remus is with this whole situation. That she’s accidentally opened old wounds, Lily throwing salt at them she tries to catch up. Sirius had been in pain too. She can at least see that. He’d been defensive and vicious the second it had been bought into the conversation, folding into himself, and Remus had --- done that, done that to him, knowing that there’d be consequences, because she --

She’d demanded answers and he’d offered them despite the destructive consequences. He’d done it knowing exactly how it would go. He’d known full well they’d end up here.

Lily lets out a harsh breath. She blinks. She stops Remus from tugging at the corner of his robes, laying a hand over his anxious-movement. She squeezes his hand.

“Sorry,” Lily says, “For dragging you into a domestic.”

Remus’ mouth makes it halfway to a smile. It doesn’t quite land.

“Well. We’ve gotten over it before.”

“It isn’t,” Lily begins, “It isn’t really any of my business.”

Remus sighs.

“At this point, I’m not sure the lines of what is and isn’t your business are very helpful,” Remus says, “It was probably ---- inevitable that we’d stumble into it at some point. I’m sure he’d rather we never talk about it again. I certainly would.”

He looks miserable. Really, properly sad.

“You’ll have to trust me that he does feel bad about it,” Remus continues. “He feels… exposed by it. He —- hates what he did, but he’s Sirius, so he can’t say that.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Remus says, as if that’s a whole explanation. The groove in his forehead deepens. He twists his fingers up in the fabric of his robes. He clearly makes a decision, picks out some words. “Some —- fucked-up, shitty residue from his mother. He doesn’t tend to discuss it. I —- understand she used to lock him in his room until he’d submit to begging for forgiveness for any minor infraction she deemed a problem, for any fundamental part of his character she decided was an issue …. but the end result is a rather volatile relationship with guilt. He does feel guilty, though. It’s fair to say that guilt is more due to the consequences for me than because of Snape, who he does genuinely despise, but it —- it is there.”

Lily makes an involuntary noise of displeasure at the mention of Snape.

“Lily…. Snape is --- a representation of everything Sirius has tried to reject: someone who idolised the dark arts, who’s attracted to power, who uses it to further their interest. Sirius detests everything about prejudice, blood purity, because it was used as an excuse for cruelty and control for his whole childhood. It’s always been personal, for Sirius. And then Snape threatened one of the few people Sirius trusts enough to allow himself to love, threatened his laughter-filled, easy world at Hogwarts, his happiness, his friend. I understand why he did it, Lily. And --- in his defence, it did work. Dumbledore made it entirely clear to Snape that if he told anyone about it there’d be consequences. He dropped it. That’s not to say I —— condone any of it, that there weren't a hundred better ways to handle it but —— I can’t listen to you accuse him, condemn him. I can’t.”

“Okay,” Lily says, her voice quiet. Small. She feels very young.

“He shouldn't have spoken to you like that.” Remus says, “He can be…. vicious, when he feels like he’s under-attack. That isn’t an excuse, but…. An explanation.”

“Will you,” Lily begins, then cuts herself off. “Where is he?”

“Astronomy tower,” Remus says, “James went to make sure he wasn’t about to throw himself off it. Melodramatic prat.”

“And you came here.”

“James is better at dealing with him when he gets like that.” Remus says, his forehead creased. She remembers that look from the summer, slightly bitter. “He’s —- completely impervious to Sirius lashing out, and I’m —- well. Largely the reason he’s upset. Besides, I had to come talk to you.”

“Damage control.”

“To make sure you’re alright,” Remus corrects, “Lily.”

“I’m quite fed up of all your secrets, Lupin.” Lily says, and she feels the threat of tears pushing at the back of her eyes.

“I bet you are.” Remus says.

Lily looks down at her hands. She feels it again: that squeeze of rejection round her heart, the idea of belonging turning into something that cuts her up on the insides, the reminder that it’s always been like this.

“Will it be alright? You and Sirius?”

“I expect so,” Remus says, and there’s that pinch in his forehead, “I don’t really know how to operate when we’re not, to be honest. It’s all very — pathetic.”

“No,” Lily says, “It isn’t, Remus, it’s just —— love.” Remus makes an indiscernible noise at the back of his throat and starts pulling at his sleeves again. “I —- I know how unhappy you were when you weren’t talking.”

“It wasn’t worth it,” Remus says, “It didn’t make anyone feel any better, punishing him for it, and he —- that year his family were —- particularly shit.”

“They disowned him that summer.”

Remus nods. He’s still looking at his hands.

“He’s —- he’s remarkable, Lily. Brilliant. Good. Brave.”

Lily nods. She can’t quite bring herself to agree verbally, even though she --- Sirius is brilliant, wild and alive, defiant, loyal, and she doesn’t know quite how to square that with his rashness, his recklessness, his ability to hate, his capacity for cruelty. Most of those things are not new information, but they’re thrown into sharp relief. Currently, they feel a lot bigger than his wicked sense of humour, his brilliance.

“James,” Lily begins, and then her throat feels tight again. She’d barely begun to comprehend that. There were already too many things to take in, but it had begun to start demanding attention. Right before Remus had entered, his name had started swimming round her head, as she tried to understand this new piece of information. “He …”

“He risked his life,” Remus says, and that matter-of-fact tone is back. “I’d already transformed. Snape saw me. If he’d been even a few minutes later, they might both have been killed.”

It’s that that finally tips her into tears. One escapes from her left eye, streaks down his face, because ----

“He’s a good man, isn’t he?” Lily says, and it feels too entirely huge, too big, too overwhelming to process, “James, he’s ---”

“Without a doubt, the best I’ve ever met.” Remus says, without hesitation.

The best. That sticks in her throat.

She screws her eyes shut. Breathes.

It isn’t, necessarily, that James saved Severus’ life. That has shook her down to her core, because some of her reservations have always been that. Those accusations that she levelled about him being self-centered, a bully. It is entirely fucking astounding that James risked his life to save someone he hates. That underneath it, James is righteous at the core. That is shattering, but it isn’t that which has her lungs contracting, another tear streaming down her face.

It’s ---

He hadn’t tried to use it to win her favour. She can remember him saying something to the effect of her tolerating Snape’s threats in that conversation in the passage, but he’d buried it quickly, barrelled past it too fast for her to notice its significance. He was trying to convince her that he was worth a second chance, but he’d placed that off-limits to protect his friends. He’d shown remarkable humility. Selflessness. He’d never have mentioned it. Let her continue to berate him for his attitude towards Snape. She’s quite sure James would never have told that story. That he’d have done anything he could think of to avoid it, for Sirius. For Remus.

“I,” Lily begins, “I nearly kissed him.”

Remus’ jaw squares slightly, but it’s discomfort rather than surprise. She has no idea why she said it, other than that she hasn’t said it out loud to anyone, and it’s been driving her crazy. All of it has been driving her crazy.

“He told you,” Lily says.

“He told Sirius,” Remus corrects which is ---

Another tear tracks down her face. Brilliant. Of course she isn’t really surprised, but at this particular moment the idea of James and Sirius discussing her is painful. Complicated.

Remus doesn’t ask the question she’d have expected from most, which is probably not a surprise --- Remus has made an incredible effort throughout this not to be involved, but is a shame, because she feels like she’s suddenly closer to an answer. Or, at least, she has an answer to one of the questions. If he turned to her and said ‘why didn’t you’ she might finally be able to articulate some of the hesitation that’s had her paralysed.

Because James Potter doesn’t just ask a girl out, he falls in love. He doesn’t make friends, he makes a lifelong-soul-commitment that blossoms this ridiculous, incredible loyalty that Lily is both awed by and intimidated by. Because she can see how much all of it means to him. Because she’s aware of how much accidental power she has over him. Because she knows that if she dated James Potter, she’d be hit with a tidal-wave of steadfastness, commitment and care and she doesn’t know how to deal with that. Because, for once in Lily’s life, she might have met someone who’d prioritise her in absolutes: who wouldn’t qualify their relationship with conditions, who wouldn’t expect her to be a certain way, who wouldn’t resent parts of her, who wouldn’t wish away things that are so intrinsic to her existence.

Except, there are limitations. And Lily’s spent so much of her life pressed up against the glass, wondering if she’ll ever be fully invited in anywhere. She’d thought James was different -- that the Marauders were different --- but he has his own private island, his secrets, his priorities. She’d been kidding herself that she could be fully included. She’s self-aware enough to know that some of her emotional reaction to all of this stems from a sting of rejection. She knows that he is still lying to her.

“Remus,” Lily says, “I’m --- I’m not an idiot.”

Remus' expression catches, he smiles slightly.

“We know,” Remus says, “It’s always presented us with quite a problem.”

“You --- you told me that to distract me from something else. Why he was hurt. It was strategy.”

Remus lets out a breath.

“Yes,” Remus says. He doesn’t elaborate. She wasn’t expecting him to.

And ---

She doesn’t know what it is, but ---

Sirius was already sharp and overprotective before anything about Snape came up. Lily has very little doubt about who he was trying to protect. She’s only heard James take on that tone with things that are about protecting Remus. She’s sure, whatever it is, that it’s about him. For him.

“Remus. Would I hate it?” Lily asks.

“James got hurt doing something --- very noble and very stupid. Something which I --- disapprove of and hate, but not nearly so much as I am endlessly awed by it. And I am --- indescribably grateful for it.”

“Remus,” She says, “If you —— want to never talk about it again, I can do that.”

“That would be much appreciated.” Remus says, and shuts his eyes.

“I love you, you know,” Lily says. It seems to take him slightly by surprise. He opens his eyes again, his expression flickering. “Whatever other stupid thing there is.”

He eyes her, his expression warm, fond.

“It’s mutual.”

Lily pulls him into a tight hug. Hides her face in his shoulder for a moment.

It’s just then that Alex bursts into the Dormitory, then stops short in the doorway. She offers some hurried apology, then backs out, apologetic.

“And that,” Lily says, beginning to laugh, “Is how rumours start.”

“Sirius will be thrilled,” Remus says, and then he starts chuckling, burying it in Lily’s pillows, “He’s been on about us needing another diversion rumour.”

“Wonderful,” Lily flits back, and then they’re laughing in earnest. She picks herself up, standing up with as much dignity as she can muster, offering a hand to pull him upwards. “Well then, Remus. Once more unto the breach.”

“Right you are, Lily.” Remus agrees, takes her hand, and pulls him up to standing.

*

In a move that would win her no points for Gryffindor, she runs to Roisin, and hides herself in her company. It isn’t particularly effective; they’ve never fully crossed back into an easy rhythm of friendship, and Matthew is always there, but that does mean she’s able to get away with being so deeply buried in her own head. She’s sure she’s absolutely terrible company, but it goes largely unnoticed, or at least unremarked upon .

Roisin digs a finger into her ribs to get her attention. Lily blinks herself out of her head, looks at her.

“Are they together?” She asks, a hissed whisper. Lily follows her gaze and ---- right. Roisin is assessing three out of the four of them, where they’ve taken up their usual spot in the best seats near the fire. Given Peter is curled in an armchair with a plate of biscuits, she assumes the ‘they’ she’s questioning are none other than Remus-and-Sirius, two people who Lily had been trying to push from her mind. They are never precisely subtle --- Lily likes to think she’d have clocked it a long time even if she hadn’t literally walked in on it --- but they’ve abandoned even more of the usual boundaries about physical contact in public. Sirius is slumped fully against his slide and -- while you can’t quite tell for sure between Sirius’ hair and the fabric of robes -- Lily is entirely sure Remus’ hand is in his hair. More strikingly, Sirius looks grey and miserable, barely present. He’s silent and unmoving, seemingly entirely unaware of the conversation Peter and Remus are having.

Lily’s stomach twists. She doesn’t really know what to do with the fact that she’s glad that they seem not to be in the middle of an argument anymore. That any horrible aftershocks from it all being bought up, at least, haven’t caused them to crack and break. She also doesn’t know what to do with how much she hates the idea of Sirius being so obviously miserable. Can’t quite placate the angry, bitter part of her that wants justice and the part of her that remembers Sirius Black sitting by her bedside while she bled out of her chest, who’d stood up for her, demanded better, valiantly, boldly made himself a potential-target. She doesn’t know how to turn the Sirius who made her laugh during the hardest summer of her life into the Sirius who nearly killed her childhood best friend back into the same person; the teenager who was tortured in his own home for refusing to attack muggles with the idiot who goaded her about not having a date for awhile; the Sirius who would do literally anything for his friends with someone who could claim anyone ‘deserved’ to be mauled to death. Regardless, it sticks in her throat to see him greyscale and quiet.

A volatile relationship with guilt.

Next to her, Roisin’s gaze is piercing, curious. And, right, her question: are they together?

Last time Lily had asked them about it, Sirius had made some joke about the importance of his reputation as an untameable bachelor that Lily knew full well was bollocks and they hadn’t given a real answer to why they still carried on with their secrecy routine. Their commitment to it was still evident, though, and Lily wasn’t exactly in the position to question it. It’s their decision to make, so she hadn’t pushed. She wouldn’t go against that either way, but Roisin is one thing --- Lily can’t imagine her ever having anything bad to say about any of it -- but Matthew looks entirely too interested, too, trying to look like he’s not listening to their conversation, his body twisted towards them.

“Sirius is like that with everyone,” Lily says, dismissive.

“Not like that.” Roisin says.

“Last I heard, Remus is dating a muggle from his hometown in Wales,” Lily says, surprised by how quickly the lie comes out of her mouth, how engrained the desire to protect them actually runs. “I met her over the summer.”

“I’ve never heard any of them mention her.”

“It’s not exactly a good time to advertise dating a Muggle, is it?” Lily offers back, in a hushed tone. “And I don’t know what he told her, about school. It would be just like them to think they’re immune to the Statue of Secrecy .”

“What about Sirius?”

“No idea,” Lily says, “Probably realised dating would mean spending less time with real soul mates, James Potter, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew.”

“Hmm.” Roisin says, unconvinced. As she looks around, she realizes that Roisin isn’t the only one who's taken their proximity in.

“Speaking of those prats, I’m supposed to be patrolling soon.” Lily says, standing up, “Later, both,” She says, raising a hand in farewell before crossing the Common Room.

She hasn’t really decided what she’s going to say before she gets there, which is a shame, because whatever conversation they’re having dies when she stalls at the back of their sofa. Sirius looks up at her, his eyes beady and alert.

“Hi Lily,” Remus says, and his turning to take her in does at least create some space between them. She tries to subtly prod his arm strewn over the back of the sofa, telepathically communicating ‘people are looking’ in a way that doesn’t involve admitting to Sirius that she’d come over in an attempt to rescue him. She’s relatively sure she only succeeds in confusing him, because Remus stares up at her with a look of bafflement. It’s reasonable, given that she has made great efforts to avoid them all for days, and now she’s here, not saying anything, jabbing him in the back of the wrist.

“Have you seen James? We’re supposed to patrol.”

“He went up to shower after Quidditch practice,” Remus says, “Said he was the kind of filthy that the changing rooms showers wouldn’t cut. He’ll be down in a minute.”

“Right.”

“Bored of third wheeling, Evans?” Sirius asks, when she doesn’t move or say anything further, just stands there staring at them like an idiot. His voice is hard and agitated. Lily can feel her hackles raise, this anger inflate in her chest. It may hollow her out to see Sirius looking so upset, but he’s still bloody infuriating.

“Yes, actually. Perhaps Peter can help me. ” Lily says, her voice low, but just as hard. The crease in Remus’ forehead deepens. “Roisin was just saying----” she says, almost hisses, “That Pete and I seem to have a lot in common, this evening. So maybe he can --- relate.”

“Ah,” Remus says, shifting ever so slightly. “That’s an --- interesting perspective.”

Sirius looks like he’s about to tell her to fuck off, but she’s saved from having to deal with whatever it is that was going to come out of his mouth by James arriving.

“Lily,” James says, brightly, freshly shower. His hair is still wet, plastered close to the top of his skull. She’s suddenly incredibly aware of how familiar she is with the scent of his shampoo. He’s stopped entirely too close to her, displaying an uncomfortable familiarity with her space. “Does this mean you’ve stopped avoiding us?”

Lily huffs and turns on the spot, walking towards the portrait hole. She hears him say an awkward ‘right’ and then feels him following her, frantically attempting to keep up with her strides.

“Lily,” James calls, “Merlin, you walk fast.”

“Will you tell Remus --- that I accidentally made up a Welsh muggle girlfriend for him,” Lily says, arms folded over her chest. She keeps walking at pace, striding down the corridors, but her voice is low. “That if they’re insistent on their secrecy-thing they might want to consider actually being secretive.”

“Tell them yourself when we’re finished,” James says, “Sirius always loves hearing about Moony’s fictitious girlfriends. Gets a real kick out of it.”

“No,” Lily says, firm, “Not a good idea.”

“It’s good of you,” James says, still attempting to fall properly into step with her, “To cover for them.”

“I’ve been doing it for a year, James, why would I stop now?”

“Fair enough. Wish they’d just give up all the cloak and dagger stuff,” James says, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly, think most people have got better things to worry about than who Sirius likes to snog.”

“Do you know anyone who’s out at Hogwarts?” Lily asks, pointedly.

James looks deep in thought for a moment.

“Yes. That scrawny blonde Hufflepuff fourth year,” James says, and he’s in step with her now, “Can’t remember his name, now, but --- he came out at some point last year. Sirius bought him a pint at the Three Broomsticks. Think he, Sirius, was quite excited about it, really, kept talking about how they had a youngling to educate --- and then he started calling him The Hufflepoof, and Moony said that wasn’t acceptable, was basically hate speech, and Sirius said that he was reclaiming it --- and also that he couldn’t remember his name, which I also seem to have forgotten.” James rabbits on. He’s nervous. James only babbles this much when he’s nervous. “Then they had quite a long conversation about reclaiming slurs and how that worked which was … fascinating, actually, really interesting. And Sirius said he -- the youngling, should get Hufflepoof tattooed across his chest, and Remus was adamant that you could only reclaim a term for yourself, not for someone else, and Sirius said that he couldn’t well get himself a Hufflepoof tattoo, being a strapping young Gryffindor, but he suggested maybe he could get a tattoo of a lion sucking a ---- well. You get the idea.”

“Yes, I think I’m following.” Lily deadpans. “Did they ever remember his name?”

“Uh, well I made myself scarce shortly after that,” James says, “Remus was looking a bit like he rather liked the idea of Sirius with the lion tattoo on his chest, and I tend to try and extract myself when it looks like they’d rather be necking. Tends to result in a more palatable living situation for all of us. Wait --- Wilbert Stracken, that’s it! Because when he remembered Sirius also thought his first name had some comedic potential.” James says, “Then Silverston, before he left. Josephine Sanders’ little brother?”

“No,” Lily says, “He’s just --- enthusiastic. Amy asked Josie.”

“There was someone else in the year above us. Another Ravenclaw bloke, with the gasses. No women I know of,” James says, thoughtfully, “Where are all the lesbians, Lily?”

“I really wouldn’t be able to comment.” Lily says, a smile creeping up on her despite herself. She’s annoyed by it, because she’s irritated, and she doesn’t want to be charmed by James rambling on. She’d felt quite righteously attached to her own anger.

“They must be somewhere.” James says, “But I take your point. I think Padfoot would quite fancy himself a bit of --- trending setting icon, if things were different. So. You are still avoiding us, covering for the lovebirds notwithstanding?”

“I’m not avoiding anyone,” Lily says, with her arms still folded across her chest.

“Well,” James says, “It feels a bit like you’re avoiding us.”

“James,” Lily says, “I just need --- some space.”

“Some space,” James says, “From me?”

“From all of you.”

“Including me?”

“Yes, James, that’s what --- ‘all’ means.”

James is silent for a few moments. The turn left down the Charms corridor, mapping the same familiar route on automatic.

“To be honest Lily,” James says, “I think that’s a bit of a cop out.”

Lily exhales. Finally, actually looks in his direction. He’s got a set expression on his face, something determined in his eyes.

“Because, actually, you’d been avoiding us before all that. You’ve been avoiding me since we went flying,” James continues, hands stuffed in his pockets, “And you said you’d tell me when you’d --- had some time to think, and you haven’t.”

“I told you to leave it be.”

“Yeah,” James says, “You did. And I have been, but I think I ought to have made my own demands, that you don’t get to just --- pull a disappearing act, like we’re not all friends.”

“James, you don’t think the situation has changed?” Lily snaps. “What happened ---”

“Yeah, that was bad,” James says, “It was, but ---”

“But what, James? He nearly killed someone.”

“I know,” James says, and his hand is in his hair again, ruffling up his hair, “I just --- I don’t understand how I came out of this as an asshole.”

Lily lets that hang in the air for a few moments, because she has no idea what to say. Of course, he’s right. By a lot of metrics, James hasn’t done anything wrong.

And yet.

“How is your wound?” Lily asks, pointed.

“It’s great, thanks for asking,” James says. “You were right about the Dittany. Must’ve been old. Pete found some more stuff at the back of the cupboard, and now I’m right as rain. Completely healed.”

“Really,” Lily deadpans. On the one hand, it’s a better lie than his previous, but it fails on account of being entirely disprovable. “Show me, then.”

James’ expression falters for a split second, then he rearranges into one of his arrogant-smirks.

“Lily, if you’re trying to get me to take my kit off, maybe we should …” He loses confidence before he gets to the end of the sentence, cutting himself off entirely at her dirty look. His expression drops into something more regretful. They both know that he’s lying, which means she’s made her point. It feels like quite a hollow victory. She’s not sure how much she wants to test it, whether she has the emotional bandwidth to push today, to see how much he’ll bunker down on the lie, how much vulnerability he’d be willing to expose when he knows she’s spitting mad at the lot of them.

Lily huffs. Fixes her gaze on the corridor.

“I don’t think you’re an asshole.” Lily says, finally.

“Lily,” James says, “Look, regardless of if you hate Sirius, we can be friends.”

“And how would that work?” Lily demands, “Given you’re attached at the hip? I’ve been -- fully aware that you’re a package deal since the first week.”

“But you’ve --- you did it with Remus.”

“Yes, occasionally he was put on loan, when you lot were busy with detention, or when he was obligated to remove himself from Sirius’ side to patrol.” Lily says. Apparently, it’s her turn to be cruel now, but she’s tired. Upset. Exhausted from everything.

“Well,” James says, with an attempt at joviality, “Sometimes they’re still busy with detention, and I’m also obligated to remove myself from Sirius’ side to patrol ---”

“ --- And you’ll just merrily listen to me slagging Sirius off, will you?”

“Well, we could just talk about something else.”

“James ---”

“The thing about Sirius,” James says, “Is that the things he’s most scared of --- other than Remus ditching him for a handsome, bookish Ravenclaw or his brother becoming a Death Eater, I mean, is --- - feeling like his parents made him feel --- small, weak, powerless, and --- the other, is being someone who makes someone else feel like that. And sometimes those two things --- rather conflict with each other.”

“And that’s why Sirius bullied Snape, is it?”

“Well,” James says, “Yes.”

“And why did you do it?” Lily asks, stopping walking and turning to face him. James’ expression falters. “Fine. Sirius --- Sirius had a horrible childhood. I understand that. I’ve heard it. You didn’t. Why did you pick on Snape?”

“Because I was an idiot,” James says, “But I haven’t --- I don’t any more ---”

“Right,” Lily says, “So when he hexed you in the corridor, and split your stomach open, that was totally unprovoked, was it?”

James’ expression twists, falters.

“Largely.”

“Exactly,” Lily says, turning back round and beginning to walk again. “For a start, James, it’s incredibly fucking stupid to piss someone off who knows one of your best friend’s secrets, who has the power to ruin his life.”

“Dumbledore ---”

“And you trust Snape’s impulse control?” Lily asks. “Snape?”

“I didn’t mean to get into anything with Snape,” James says, his voice quieter, “I do know that, Lily. He just ---”

“I know he’s also a bully,” Lily says, “That he’s --- horrible. But --- I don’t like this, James.”

“He’s ---” James begins, and the next words seem to cost him. “He’s been making his opinions known ever since he realised we’re all friends, now, being a git about it. He’s --- he’s in love with you.”

Lily exhales.

“That’s not new information to me,” Lily says, “And I fully imagine he has been a git. I’m not ignorant. I just --- expect you to be the bigger person. You are. You have actually proven that.”

“Okay,” James nods, “I hear you.”

“Fine.” Lily says, curt. They walk a bit further.

“Lily. I wanted to ask, if you’d heard anymore about your Dad.”

“James,” Lily says, her voice hot with frustration. It's sweet. He's being sweet. It makes her head feel incredibly full. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“People talk to their friends about their problems.”

“You are my problem,” Lily snaps, which she almost regrets the second it comes out of her mouth. James blinks at her. “Look, James. I’m upset. I really don’t want to get into any kind of --- deep discussion with you, about anything. I don’t have the headspace.”

“Okay then,” James says, nodding, “Well, let’s talk about something not deep, then. Pete swears blind that McGonagall’s started doing something different with her hair, but I can’t see it, and Sirius ---”

“--- James.” Lily says, “We’re not talking about McGonagall’s hair.”

“Alright,” James says, “You can tell me about those Muggle books you like again, then, or tell me what a twit Vernon Dursley is.”

“You also said you wouldn’t try too hard.”

“Lily,” James says, grabs a hold of her robes to halt her. “Look, forget about that. You’re right, I shouldn’t’ve bought it up like you said. Not the moment, but that isn’t ---- that’s actually not what I’m trying to do.”

“Then what are you trying to do, James?”

“Well,” James says, and his hand disappears into his hair. “You said that --- all that stuff about tectonic plates, about it not feeling safe to rely on anyone and…. there’s been about six hundred earth-shaking things that have been happening, including this week, and --- regardless of everything else… you said you’d be my friend. And in my world, that’s a lifetime commitment. You’re one of us now, as far as I’m concerned, so I don’t really have any intention of letting you disappear.”

Lily’s internal organs feel too big for her body. It hits her in a big rush.

“James,” Lily says, and then she grabs hold of his stupid, lopsided tie, drags him in and kisses him.

Understandably, he’s not expecting it. Lily hadn’t really been expecting it, either. Some part of her had taken over the steering wheel without consulting her head, which is still reeling, and so it takes the both a moment where they’re both just frozen with shock, and then --- then his hands are in hair, she’s surrounded by the scent of his shampoo and his familiar James-ness, and he’s warm and his mouth is soft, and ---

“Oh,” James says, once she’s pulled away again, taking a stumbling step backwards with her heart hammering with something that might be adrenaline, or nerves, or something else entirely. For a moment, she stares at him.

James Potter.

And then Lily starts to cry.

“Shit,” James says, with this look somewhere between wonderstruck and confusion, “That bad?”

“No,” Lily says, and gets halfway to punching him in the arm in a jovial-jokey sort of way, but then she just grabs hold of his arm instead, and starts sobbing in earnest.

“Right,” James says, his voice thick with bafflement. “Right,” He says again, and then he’s pulling her out of the middle of the fucking corridor towards an empty classroom. Lily’s not entirely sure if she’s embarrassed or hysterical, but she lets herself be steered, sits down on the edge of the desk and tries to bury her face in her hands.

James sits next to her.

“So,” He says, “Hogsmeade weekend in a couple of weeks.”

“James, stop it.”

“But you ---” James begins, then blinks. “Right. Okay.”

“I don’t hate Sirius,” Lily says, as if that’s the most important conversation they need to have. James’ return look of sheer confusion is entirely reasonable. She’s lost her head. She’s totally sodding unravelled, which she’d expected was a risk whenever she’d tried to process any of this. She’s just --- saturated. “I think I love the idiot. Not like that, for god’s sake---” Lily says, when James’ expression freezes, and he stiffens, and then she starts laughing. It isn’t funny. Absolutely none of it is funny, but the whole thing is just so ludicrous that she ---

“Lily,” James says, “Are you alright?”

“No,” Lily says, wiping her face furiously, and she’s no longer entirely sure if she’s laughing or crying. “I think I’ve --- completely lost it, James.”

“I see.”

“One of my best friends tried to kill one of my other friends,” Lily says, “And that friend wants everyone like me dead, just not actually me, dead. And my other best friend is dead. Might’ve been murdered by that first friend’s cousin. I have been mutilated with a slur that most of the world’s never even heard of. I just ---- when did this become life, James? We are —- seventeen. We’re supposed to be stressed about exams, deciding what to do with our lives. I year ago I hated being in the same room as you, I don’t —- I didn’t mean I only kissed you because I’ve lost it, I just --- I’m a bit overwhelmed, James, and I don’t think I should be trusted with making decisions right now. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.”

“No, I should,” Lily says, and wipes another tear out of the corner of her eyes.

“No, it was --- great.” James says, with enough enthusiasm that she starts sniggering again. Her head knocks into his shoulder. She allows herself to let it settle there for a moment. “Brilliant, I thought. Any time you fancy --- having another breakdown, just let me know.”

“You shouldn’t make me laugh,” Lily says, “I’m being cruel.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever been cruel, Lily,” James says, his voice low. “I should walk you back to the Common Room, I think. Reckon you might need a night off.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” Lily nods

“I’ll make Moony come patrol with me instead.”

“Buy one Marauder, get Sirius Black free.”

James smiles slightly.

“Probably,” James agrees, “It doesn’t have to be like that, you know.”

“James,” Lily says, “I know how much you all love each other and --- I really think it does.”

James looks at her for a moment, his expression serious, searching. He sighs and stands up.

“Well,” James says, and offers her a hand to help her off the desk. She accepts it.

They walk back up to the Common Room in silence that’s more comfortable than it has any right to be. They fall into the same rhythm. The back of their hands knock together, occasionally, and Lily doesn’t attempt to stop it. She’s tired.

“Lily,” James says, as they approach the Fat Lady, “You’re going to go back to -- ‘needing space’ again, aren’t you?”

“James,” Lily begins, about to launch into her defence. He cuts across her.

“Just --- I’m here when you’re ready. Alright? We all are.” James says, earnest enough that it’s difficult to doubt. Her throat feels thick again. She suspects she’s going to carry on crying again the second she’s alone.

She nods. He turns away from her.

“James,” Lily says, shame already stirring in her gut. She’s been horrible all evening, really, but she’s about to really sodding commit to it. “Look. I wrote to Alice. We were --- I was going to meet her for a drink. Once we’ve worked out a date, I was ---- I was going to ask if I could --- borrow the map. Or the cloak.”

“Course,” James says, without hesitation. He pockets his hands. “Sounds like exactly what you need. Whenever you like.”

It’s only because she knows that at least two of them will be heading back out of the Portrait hole that she doesn’t slide down the side of the wall, hug her knees to her chest and weep.

*

Space does, in fact, help.

As does Alice Longbottom.

*

It is entirely not her intention to end up eavesdropping on any of them.

When she’d sought him out yesterday, James had given her both the cloak and the map. When she’d pointed out that Sirius said they usually keep them separated, he’d offered her a shrug and a heart-wrenching ‘what can I say, Lily, you’re special’, but she hadn’t anticipated the relative difficulty of using both at the same time. The problem with the map was that there was entirely too many people in the castle, and too many of them moved, and after she’d nearly walked into someone -- while invisible -- because she was watching the dot of McGonagall moving around a whole floor above her, she’d decided the only people she much cared about where the ones she was about to trip over. So, she’d pocketed the map, and was just in the process of sneaking back towards the Common Room when she ran into them.

And --- perhaps she might’ve done what is objectively the right thing and walk away, if they hadn’t been speaking about her.

“Can’t believe you gave Evans both.” Sirius grumbles.

“Yes you can,” Remus deadpans.

“Fine, it’s entirely bloody predictable, but --- what’s a man supposed to do, when he needs a smoke and some peace and quiet?”

“What everyone else does,” Remus says, “Sneak up to whatever tower’s nearest and hope for the best.”

“At least I’m with the Head Boy, if anyone tries to give me detention.”

“Fuck off, Padfoot,” James says.

They veer to the left, heading up towards the North Tower. Lily waits for a moment, heart beating fast as she tries to make a decision but ---

-- She’s spent most of her evening talking about James, and a little bit about Sirius, too. She’d had a very large glass of wine and had to talk in big vague terms about a lot of the thorny difficult to explain bits, and Alice had been patient, and both blunt and kind, and she’d asked some important questions, and Lily had rather come to a decision but she’s --

She’s curious.

She has no idea how many private conversations of hers they’ve heard, and it’s entirely unlikely the same opportunity will present itself. She hesitates for a few more moments, then decides to fuck it and follow them up the stairs.

They take a short cut that’s too conspicuous for her to follow, so by the time she’s caught up to the balcony, Sirius is halfway through his cigarette. He’s leaning against the railing next to Remus, also with a cigarette in hand, as James distractedly paces across the stone.

She’s lucky they’d left the door open.

She tucks herself behind the gargoyle near the entrance, out of the wind, her heart hammering.

“I don’t know,” James says, hand in his hair, his expression unusually serious. “Think I’ve fucked it up, mate.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Sirius says, impatiently. “Not recently anyway. Fair enough, you used to be a pit of a pillock, but you haven’t---- "

“She might,” James says, and her stomach turns over as she registers that they’re still talking about her. Properly. “Just not like me, which is --- well, fair enough, really. Can’t be helped.”

“She kissed you.”

“Yeah, and then she got upset and then she’s --- more or less ignored me for a week, which isn’t a good sign, is it?”

“No,” Sirius agrees, flicking ash off the edges of his cigarette. “There’s better signs, I’ll grant you.”

“There’s been a lot going on,” Remus says. He’s half looking out over the grounds, deliberately placing himself on the edge of the conversation.

“Did she --- say something?" James asks, eyes darting in his direction.

“James,”

“Right, yes, I know,” James says, “You’re Switzerland. Not getting in the middle.”

“Should’ve dragged Wormtail out instead,” Sirius says, prodding Remus in the side. “Much more help.”

“I was intending to go read my book, before you two accosted me.” Remus says.

“Well, Jane wrote,” James says, ruffling up his hair, “I think she ditched him again, which --- I didn’t know you could be dumped when you’re already dumped, but he said he wanted to be on his own.”

“Poor git,” Sirius says.

“Love is rubbish,” James says, with feeling. He sighs. Leans on the railings near Sirius, looking out over the grounds. Lily’s seen James look serious in a number of scenarios, but never quite like this. Somewhere between sad and frustrated, thoughtful. Contemplative. “I don’t know why I --- I always used to think she would change her mind, eventually, which probably makes me a bit of a tosser.”

“You’re an optimist, Prongs.” Sirius says, and claps him on the shoulder.

“And I’d stopped thinking about it, really. Just liked her having her not think I was a toerang. Being friends. And then….”

“I know, mate.” Sirius says, sympathetic.

“Just wish I knew what was going on in her head.” James says, “Just --- a bit, but. Well. Girls.” He says, hopelessly. “I’m useless.”

She’s never heard him chastise himself with such venom before. It sours slightly in her stomach, sticks in the back of her throat.

“You’re not useless,” Remus says.

“Even if she --- doesn’t fancy me, fine, I just want her to be alright, and it’s all been ---- spectacularly shit, and now she won’t talk to anyone. She’s even avoiding you, Moony, and I just --- can’t seem to fix it.”

“For the record,” Remus says, looking out over the ground as he carries on his cigarette, “I’ve never thought the problem is that she doesn’t fancy you.” They both turn to him, surprised. “To create such a long list of reasons why you’re a prick, tends to involve paying quite a lot of paying attention. And they were lengthy lists, Prongs. Surprisingly detailed. Specifically levelled at you, rather than the other moron over here.”

James stares at him, mouth slightly open. Lily feels herself blushing under the invisibility cloak.

“Very good point, Moony,” Sirius says, assessing him. “You’ve been holding out on us. You’ve got opinions,” Sirius says, prodding him.

“I’m just saying ---- I wouldn’t hang the towel up yet if I were you, James,” Remus says, turning back around, facing towards them again.

“No idea how, anyway, Moony.” James says, “I just ---- feel a bit sad about it all, to be honest.”

“Come here, you big wet blanket,” Sirius says, and tugs him into a hug. Sirius crushes him into his chest, ruffles up his hair. There’s a lot of clapping each other on the back, then James finally extracts himself looking morose, but gratified.

“Thanks, Padfoot,” James says, shoving him away. He ruffles up his hair. “Least I’ve got you prats.”

“Always,” Sirius says, heartily. “She’ll come around. Moony says so. He’s always right.”

“Maybe,” James says, shrugging with a great attempt of trying to seem like he doesn’t care. His expression flickers. “Reckon Pete’ll have had enough stewing on his own, be ready to start tearing his hair out soon. I’ll --- go see if he’s alright. It’s a terrible business, this love stuff. Does a number on a man.”

“Awful,” Remus agrees.

“Skip it, I reckon,” Sirius nods, “Not worth the hassle.”

“Agreed,” James says. He buries his hands in his pockets and heads back to the door. It swings shut behind him, closing off her only escape route. Lily bites her lip, gaze shifting back to Remus and Sirius.

They’ve finished their cigarettes, so by any luck any minute they’ll ---

As she watches, Sirius’ face changes, the mask drops, expression twisting into something anguished. The change is horrible, sudden, the colour draining out of his skin.

“Sirius,” Remus says, in this low, coaxing voice that she’s never heard. She had no idea Remus had the ability to sound like that. Sirius turns away, both from her and from Remus, starts agitatedly tugging at his hair, his scalp, with a concentrated sort of violence.

“This is my fault,” He says, choked. Gritty.

“It isn’t," Remus says, gently pulling his hands away, capturing them. He holds them ransom, less like an attempt to bring comfort, and more like he’s stopping him from trying to rip his hair out of skull. “Pads --”

“I --- fucked everything up and he --- he doesn’t even have the decency to hate me for it.”

“You know James is completely incapable of hating you.” Remus says, still in that low, steady voice.

“He should. I’m --- scum. Putrid. I just --”

Putrid. It echos round her head, harsh, venomous.

“Pads,” Remus says, butter-soft, “Padfoot.”

Something in that breaks his tense agitation. He sags forward and Remus hugs him, and there’s this awful-childlike desperation in the way that Sirius clings to him. She thought she’d seen them vulnerable, but she glimpsed tiny glances --- and she’s suddenly very aware that he’s only seen the parts of their relationship they’ve been willing to display and she’s horribly aware of how private this is, how much Sirius would hate to be seen weakened—

His shoulders shake. Remus is shushing him. Hand in his hair, on his cheek.

Lily doesn’t know how to look away from it. She’s appalled. Turned inside out. She absolutely shouldn’t be here, but it’s too late now, far too late to declare herself and try and laugh it off —-

Eventually, Sirius lets out an awful, rattling breath and draws away as far as Remus will let him, which isn’t very far at all.

“I don’t know why you put up with me.” Sirius mutters, thick.

“Hmm,” Remus says, with that practiced, quietly amused look. “A few reasons --- on account of me being rather fond of you,” Remus says, hand slotted under his jaw, touching his face, fingertips brushing against his jawline. “On account of you being really quite charming. Brilliant, barmy, beautiful.”

Sirius huffs. Shuts his eye, attempts to put one of his normal Sirius-expressions on.

“You forgot ‘incredibly intelligent’ and ‘funny’.”

“There you are,” Remus smiles, “My Pads.”

Sirius huffs again, draws back enough to dig his cigarettes out of his pocket. He lights another, takes a drag and then passes it across. They pass it between them a few times before he speaks again.

“He won’t get over it.” He says, his voice hard.

“You don’t know what he’s capable of getting over, you just know what you’re capable of getting over.”

Sirius grunts.

“Will she get over it? Forgive me?” Sirius asks, his gaze set on his cigarette.

She’s not expecting to be bought back into it. She’s not expecting the vulnerability in Sirius’ voice to carry over to her.

“I don’t know, Pads. She doesn’t know you as well as we do.” Remus says, he knocks their arms together. “You might try an apology.”

Sirius shuts his eyes, his shoulders tightening.

“Why does her opinion have to matter?” Sirius asks, blunt and angry. That’s more like one of the versions of Sirius that Lily’s come to expect, the kind that can be harsh and demanding. That responds to emotion with challenge.

Remus doesn’t rise to it.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Remus says, faux- casually, their arms still pressed together. “Perhaps, because she’s a human being. Because --- Prongs has been in love with her since he looked up and realised we weren’t only people that exist. Because --- she is one of, oh, four people you’ve ever voluntarily talked about your family to. Because you trust her, because you like her, because against all odds -- she’s one of your best friends.”

Sirius sucks in a sharp breath. He drops the end of his cigarette, aggressively stubs it out under his foot.

“You don’t always have to be right, Moony.”

“Appologise.” Remus says, pointed.

Sirius stiffens. Remus gets back into his personal space again, touches his cheek. Sirius’ next words sound like they’ve been pulled out with great effort, stilted, each word stuff so full of emotion that they’re bursting from it.

“You always --- you --- just know when I’m sorry. I--- I can’t---”

“For Prongs.”

Sirius shakes his head. A curt, jerky movement.

Remus sighs, tugs him closer.

“Okay, Padfoot.”

“Scum.” Sirius says, the judgement sour and absolute.

“Absolutely not,” Remus says, “I’ll cop to you being a bit of a stubborn git.”

“You could apologise for me.” Sirius says, tugging on his robes. That wins a smile, Remus shaking in his head.

“I’m not sure it would have the same effect.”

‘I’ve ruined James’ life.”

“Now you’re just being melodramatic.”

“She hates me.”

“Sirius.”

“She hates me enough to hate Prongs.”

Remus sweeps his fingers over his forehead, into his hair. Sirius looks a little bit like he melts. He sighs. Shuts his eyes again.

“It wouldn’t --- go well,” Sirius says, tight. “Evans, she’s ---”

“--- nearly as hot headed as you?” Remus substitutes, which Lily thinks is entirely unfair.

“Yes.” Sirius agrees, jumping on the rest of the sentence. “Defiant. Feisty. She digs her heels in, and I --- I’d ---”

“ --- react badly.”

“Yes,” Sirius says, “And I’d say something else stupid that I didn’t mean, and make everything --- worse. Why can't she just know that I’m--- ?” He blinks. Expression freezes, starts to crack again.

“Shush,” Remus says, thumbs his earlobe.

“You don’t hate me.” Sirius says, whiny, petulant. Edging on desperate.

“Quite the opposite.”

“Prongs doesn’t hate me.”

“No,” Remus agrees, “Nor Peter, if you’re making a list.” Sirius exhales. “Padfoot, Lily was always going to make her own mind up about this, it’s --- isn’t not your fault.”

“She doesn't make any sense. He shouldn’t’ve come out of it well. He’s the fucking hero.”

“I think it was more --- the lying,” Remus says, “Which, if we’re staking stock, is my fault---”

“For Godrick’s sake, we can’t both blame ourselves for the state of James’ love life, and I started having my crisis first, so you’ll have to --- join the queue, Moony,” Sirius says, tugging him close, “Anyway, you implied you think that she --- will come round.”

“I’ve always had faith,” Remus says, smiling slightly.

“You never said anything.”

“Well. He didn’t need any more overconfidence.”

Sirius laughs at that, knocks their forehead together. Then his expression sours again.

“Moony,” He complains, “Prongs is sad.”

“I know, Pads,” Remus says, and he slips their hands together, twists their fingers together. “And we hate to see it.”

“I could --- gesture an apology. I could probably manage that without being eating alive by my own feelings."

“God. A gesture.” Remus says, “What the hell would that look like?”

“No idea,” Sirius says, “Open to suggestions.”

“Come on, you big oaf,” Remus says, “I can’t remember who's supposed to be patrolling. Shit, I hope it wasn’t me.”

“I hope it was,” Sirius grins, as Remus starts tugging him to the door. He pitches forward and kisses him on the corner of the mouth, laughing. “My kind of Prefect---”

“A disaster, you mean,” Remus says, “James probably would’ve reminded me ---”

She hears their bickering fade as they head back down the stairs.

She sits under the cloak and thinks for quite a long time.

*

She gives herself another twenty four hours to percolate, before she walks straight up to them in the Common Room to put all of them out of their misery.

“Sirius,” She says, slightly haughty. “Can I borrow you?”

He looks up at her in surprise. His expression goes from surprise to slightly steely, but he stands up without objection. He shoves his hands in his pockets, the very picture of moody-rebellious-angst and follows her back out the portrait hole. She walks back along the corridor, til they’re tucked into an alcove that Sirius once showed her. He offers her a flat, couldn’t -care-less-expression that Lily happens to know, categorically, is bullshit. Sirius, as it turns out, is a lot more complicated than she’d ever given him credit for.

“Sirius, I shouldn't have accused you of being a bad friend,” Lily says, primly. She folds her arm over her chest, assessing him. “I know how much you adore them. It wasn’t helpful and it isn’t true. I’m sorry.”

Generally, Lily is used to people dealing with directness by avoiding eye contact, but Sirius is entirely too-Sirius-Black for such things. He’s meeting her gaze with a glinty, defiant look that smacks of a challenge. Entirely expressionless. Lily had expected as much. Sirius approaches plenty of things trying to win, shock, to prove his audacity. She’s not remotely intimidated by it. Had assumed it, in fact. She carries on regardless, looking straight at him right back.

“And you were right, about Snape. I didn’t know, but ignorance isn’t an excuse. Playing the middle doesn’t work. It’s ---- difficult, when you’ve grown up with someone, to see them for who they are, rather than who they used to be. Who you thought they should be. Perhaps you can relate.” Lily says. Sirius still doesn’t break. His expression remains unfathomably blank. “But I’ve apologised to Remus, and I’ll apologise to you for that too. I really didn’t conceive that he could be so cruel. I’m not sure if there’s anything I could’ve realistically done to help, but I would’ve tried, if I’d known.”

Sirius nods, curt, which is something.

“ I can understand why you’d hate him, particularly knowing how --- protective you are, of Remus. I still think what you did was horrible and that you should feel horrible about it, but --- I don’t think you are horrible. I think you’re quite remarkable, actually. I know what you’ve been through, what you’ve dealt with, and I think —- fundamentally, Sirius, I think you are a very good person who did something incredibly stupid. I’ve been very glad that we’re friends. I’d like to still be your friend.” Lily says, eyes set on that grey, unrelenting gaze. “I told Remus we could never talk about it again, and I’ll say the same to you. For Remus’ sake, and for James and Peter, and also for yours, because --- I happen to care about you, Sirius Black.”

“Are you finished?” Sirius asks, in that slightly dismissive, cold tone. Lily refuses to rise to it. She'd have suspected it wasn’t true, but now she has proof. Sirius cares about her. He may not find it easy to articulate that, but she can live with that. She nods, with as much dignity as she can manage.

“Yes I think I am quite finished,” Lily says, “So, if that’s sorted ---”

“Evans,” Sirius says, as she starts to turn, walk away. He reaches out and grabs a hold of her arm, tugs her towards him, pulls her into a tight hug. It’s a tighter, fiercer hug than they’ve ever shared, something slightly desperate, slightly profound about it. She isn’t entirely sure, but she thinks he mutters a ‘sorry’ into her hair, but if he didn’t manage it, his gratitude is still there, pouring off him in waves. It’s a relief. She’s glad.

She’s missed him. She’s missed all of them.

“Well,” Lily says, when she pulls back. Sirius looks visibly lighter. His expression turns back to that cocky, amused one he should always wear. She doesn’t much like seeing him serious and grim, she didn’t like seeing him hurting and self-deprecating. It feels entirely like Sirius was made to be laughing, mischievous and carefree.

“Good to have you back, Lily.” Sirius says, and claps her shoulder. She laughs. They fall back into step easily. It’s a blessed relief for it to slip back into easy, for Sirius to companionably elbow her in the side. Perhaps they still have their secrets, but after some time, some talking, she is quite sure that she does fit. That she’d like to.

“One more thing,” Lily says, stalling as they reach the Fat Lady.

“More?” Sirius asks, “Something you missed in your little speech?”

“Yes,” She says, “James. Once, in the shack, you said --- you didn’t particularly want me to date James. Why?”

Sirius' expression curls into amusement and curiosity.

“Because I’ve met James,” Sirius says, “He wouldn’t just --- date you, he’d attach himself to you like a limpet, mooning about all over the place, and I’d never get him to myself. I assumed such an event would mean you’d be --- hanging around all the time, and we’d never be shot of you.”

“That would’ve been my guess to your objections.” Lily says, assessing him. That had been part of her own fear too, this horrible sense of pressure that came from the hugeness of it all.

“That being said --- my opinion about that consequences has changed. If you’re going to be hanging around either way, I suppose you might as well,” Sirius says, shrugging as if indicating indifference. Lily smiles slightly, warm, affectionate. “If it made him happy then …. I’m sure I could change my opinion. And it would. Make him happy.”

“You’d put up with me then?” Lily asks, archly. “Hypothetically.”

“As it turns out,” Sirius says, fixing her with a look, “It isn’t as much of a hardship as I’d have assumed.”

“Thank you,” Lily says, primly. And then she gives the password to the Fat Lady, steps over the portrait hole.

The Common Room is busy.

James, Remus and Peter are still sitting in the same spot in front of the fire, Sirius’ space on the sofa still vacant.

Lily strides over. She takes the empty spot next to James.

“Lily,” James says, and then his gaze flicks between her face, then up to Sirius behind her, then back to Lily. His expression is questioning, searching for some kind of assurance, something to fill in the gaps of what’s just happened.

She’d been very caught up in the magnitude of it. The background noise. Their history, the war, her own insecurities. Everything, pushing in on all sides, and Alice had cocked her head and said: the main question at this point is Lily, do you want to kiss him again?

She doesn’t allow James any time to ask her any kind of question, she just --- reaches forward, slots a hand under his jaw, and kisses him, because the answer to that was yes.

She kisses him for quite a long time.

She is vaguely, distinctly aware of Sirius loudly wolf-whistling, what might actually be applause, and any number of eyes on her, but she’s entirely focused on James Potter’s mouth, his nose bumping against-hers, her own heart beat in her chest, pounding.

“So,” Lily says, when she pulls back and looks at him. James is the picture of shock, his eyes wide, glasses wonky, staring. Behind his head, Remus is smirking into his book. Sirius Black is laughing wildly. Peter is sniggering into his shoulder. “Hogsmeade. Saturday. What time?”

Chapter Text

It’s fair to say there are some quirks to dating James Potter.

They’re having a very lovely time and —-

—— There’s an aggressive thump on the back of the door that’s loud and sudden enough that, if James were a jumpier man, it might have resulted in him biting her bottom lip off. As it is, James is apparently used to sudden, loud noises, and just stops kissing her without incident, drops his forehead so it smacks off her collarbone and makes a noise of discontent. Lily drops her hand from his cheek. Sighs.

“Are the Head Twats decent?” Sirius bellows, banging the door again.

James opens one eye, assesses their positioning; Lily pinned underneath his chest, a couple of shirt buttons undone (each), ruffled but not disastrous.

“Really depends on your definition, Padfoot.” He calls back.

“One minute, Sirius.” Lily calls , before he decides he’ll come in and make that assessment himself, because he’s done that before. James half rolls onto his side, but in such a way their legs are still tangled together. Lily props herself up on one arm, vaguely tries to sort her hair out, re-buttoning half her shirt, but —

“Bra?”

“That direction,” James says, gesturing over her way, but he’s attempting to kiss her again, chasing down the corner of her mouth as she tries to lean over and get it. It’s decidedly unproductive, but she’d been having a very nice time — it is completely impossible to get any privacy in this place — so she attempts to multitask, pulling James in with one hand, using the other to scrabble down the side of the bed with her fingers but —-

“—- fuck,” Lily says, springing back, and this time she does end up knocking heads with him, standing up to find out that she’s —-

—- got a bloody dog shaped stapler attached to her middle finger, aggressively trying to chomp down.

Sirius bursts into the room. Of course.

“Minutes up.”

“— this bloody—- you! Your mad —-“

“Lily, it’s not his fault he’s insecure about his status as a good boy.” Sirius grins, throwing himself down onto Remus’s bed, swinging his legs up, boots and all. Remus himself is behind him, entering the room with a great deal more caution on account of being a lot less shameless than Sirius Black. Behind her, James has flopped back down and is laughing into his pillows.

“Why is it under the bed?” Lily says, giving up trying to flick the thing off her.

“You know you ---”

“Yes,” Lily grimaces. She uses her other hand to pet the damn thing then, with great reluctance, because they’re all ludicrous, she says. “Good boy.”

It releases her, and drops to the floor with a clatter. She’s got two staples buried in her finger, the damn thing being entirely too violent when it’s angry.

“Ow,” She says, pointedly. “Do you have tweezers?”

“Uh, doubt it.” James says.

“Yes, bathroom, top drawer.” Sirius says.

She huffs, strides over. She stubs her toe on the cauldron by the toilet. Swears again as she riffles through their drawer, picking through the mix of potions ingredients, tubes of toothpaste and a staggering number of broken-combs before she finds them. She digs them out from under her flesh. One of them comes out suddenly with a tug, then goes flying across the room. It lands in the cauldron and starts fizzing.

“What’s this supposed to be brewing in here?” Lily calls out into the room, inspecting it warily.

“Ageing potion.” James calls back. The fizz lessens, stops, the thick liquid turning slightly blue.

“Well it’s ---- I’ll deal with that later. Don’t take any of it, whatever you do.” Lily says. She pauses at the mirror for a moment to take in the fact that her hair really can’t be salvaged --- James seems to have a bit of an obsession with playing with it, running his hands through it -- and ties it up with the band around her wrist before she steps back out in the dormitory. “Dare I ask why?”

She walks halfway across the dorm, assessing the three of them. James is now sitting on the edge of his bed, Remus digging through his bag, while Sirius is lazing across Remus’ bed backwards, looking up at the ceiling. The stapler is now on his bedside table, looking out at them all innocently.

“Sirius wanted to know if he’d still be pretty when he’s eighty.”

“Probably,” Lily says, which wins her a mock gasp of outrage from James, and then James tugs her in his direction. She goes, letting herself be pulled against his side as he hugs her round the middle from his position sitting on the bed, finds herself drawn into the doomed endeavour of trying to flatten his hair. She’s yet to have any success with it. Sirius laughs appreciatively. “It’ll be more interesting to see if he ages out of being a tosser.”

“Unlikely.” Remus adds.

“Why really?”

“There’s no particularly intended use for it, as far as I’m aware.” Remus says. “They honestly just thought it might be entertaining.”

“It’s good practice to always have something brewing. It’s like homework, Lily.”

“Yes. Except for being entirely against the rules,” Lily says, “And you seem to actually do it, which is a bit different to your attitude for everything else.”

“Can see if you still fancy me when I’ve got wrinkles,” James says, looking up at her through his eyelashes, “It’ll be fun.”

“Who says I fancy you now?”

“Ha,” James declares, “You are besotted with me.”

Lily feels the corners of her mouth quirk up.

“I need my head checked,” Lily says.

“Definitely,” Remus agrees.

“We came to escort you to Runes,” Sirius says, “In case, for whatever reason, you lost track of time.”

“Very considerate,” Lily says, making to pull away, but James clings on. “Right, see you later James. After dinner—-? ”

“Ah, no, Quidditch.”

“Again?”

“You could come. Watch.”

“It’s January.”

“Support me.”

“Play an indoor sport.”

“But —- Quidditch.”

“We’ll see.” Lily says, smiling slightly.

“Lily’s going to come watch me play Quidditch.” James tells the room at large, thrilled.

“That’s not what I said.”

“She adores me. Can’t be away from me for one evening.”

“You are —— ridiculous.”

“Lily thinks I’m ridiculous.” He declares in that same faux-lovestruck way.

“Goodbye,” She says, pointedly, leaning down to kiss him again.

“Put him down, Evans, you don’t know where he’s been.” Sirius barks, swinging himself off Remus’ bed, and then. “Assuming this is yours?” Sirius asks, and off course he’s holding out her sodding bra.

“Yes, thank you,” Lily says, primly, grabbing her bag off the floor and throwing it over her shoulder.

“Never really understood how they work.” Sirius says, inspecting the mechanism with his head titled. “Always seem a bit —- unnecessarily complicated.”

Lily pointedly takes it out of his hands, pockets it.

“Don’t worry Sirius,” Lily says, “James can’t use them either.”

Behind her, James makes a half-hearted objection. She pushes past Remus, smirking to himself, to reach the entrance to the staircase first. The other two on her heels. An idea hits her just as she’s reaching the bottom of the stairs. She pauses.

“Ah, wait, I left something,” Lily says, hesitating. “I’ll catch up with you.”

“Going back for another goodbye snog?” Sirius says, loudly, in such a way to attract a fair amount of attention. “We really ought to check Prongs isn’t putting something in your tea.”

She flips him off over her shoulder, ducks back into the room. James has yet to make any indication of moving off the foot of his bed.

“What ——?” James begins, as she goes straight to pet the bloody stapler.

“You’re about to be a very good boy.” Lily tells it, then she hides it under Sirius’s pillow.

“Brilliant.” James declares and, given she’s here now, and Sirius suggested it, she really might as well have another goodbye snog before she disappears.

She catches up with them on the first flight of stars. They’d been dawdling to allow her the opportunity to catch up, which effectively means they’ve sacrified the opportunity for a pre-Runes fag for her sake, which she appreciates. Sometimes, they are both really very sweet.

“Right then,” Lily says, slipping herself between the pair of them, linking elbows with them.

“Was it the rest of your underwear you forgot?”

“Sirius Black,” Lily says, with put upon affront, “You have, nor will you ever have, any business hypothesising about the location of my underwear.”

“What are you going to do to stop me?”

“Hm,” Lily says, considering, “Maybe I’ll set my very jealous, Quidditch Captain boyfriend on you.”

Sirius laughs for another two flights of stairs.

*

Generally, things are going well.

Very well, actually. The world is still difficult and thorny and sad, but things felt like they’ve shifted on an axis these last few months, this strange sense of… security. Not in the Wizarding World, or their futures, but more this confidence that, whatever happens, she has the building blocks of the things she needs to be able to handle it. This emerging belief that she can process loss and hurt and fear, and there will still be laughter and friendship and hope.

She thinks it would be too much to ascribe all of this to James Potter. It had probably been building for a while before that, she’d just been too overwhelmed by everything happening to really notice it.

It’s a mixture of things.

Her pride that she got up off the floor, left bleeding and wounded, and refused to bend; that that act of defiance seemed to spring up a well of resistance in the castle. She’s proud that the Statue Amy Fletcher had once turned pink has been left as an almost constant-memorial, that there are new ‘IN MEMORY OF’ posters issued and stuck up, that there are flowers, that the school is not being silent about its grief. She’s proud that the latest batch of Muggleborn first years are armed with Safety Pamphlets and the knowledge that someone’s fighting for them. Armed with three ridiculous teenage boys, and all the other friends she’s picked up over the years, she feels more like she belongs at Hogwarts than she ever has. There’s a badge on her chest that proves someone thinks she, not only should be here, but should have authority in these spaces. She’s doing much better with Roisin, now they've both silently agreed that they can’t fill the holes of everything they’ve lost, but they can have this new, different relationship. She’s incredibly pleased that she’s back in more regular contact with Alice Longbottom. She hadn’t realised how much she’d let their letter correspondence lapse until Alice she’d seen her after the attack, and raised that eyebrow at her, and she’d realised she’d never even mentioned that James Potter was no longer her biggest antagonist. She finally sees as much of Remus Lupin as she’d probably always wanted to; she has accepted her role as ‘female consultant’ for Peter Pettigrew, and she’s not sure she’s ever had a friendship like she has with Sirius Black, who remains loud, annoying and yet still inexplicably charming.

And then, of course, there is James. And as it turns out, Lily really does like James.

“Lily,” James says brightly, as she slips down into the seat next to him at dinner. He’s as he ever is, with his hair a mess, an expression that borders on-eager, a confidence about him that she’d ascribed as arrogance for a long time. She doesn’t think she would call it that anymore. Instead, she’s come to the conclusion that it comes from James’ relentless optimism, and belief that everything will work out in the end. James believes in goodness, including the goodness in himself. “Have I mentioned how lovely you’re looking today?”

He’s generous, attentive and entirely, utterly ridiculous.

“Right,” Lily says, scanning over his expression. “No, you haven’t actually.”

“Well, you’re looking --- very lovely.” James says, “Absolutely --- gorgeous.”

Lily assesses him for a minute. For a long time, she’d found the extent of James’ apparent adoration for her incredibly uncomfortable. In part, because it didn’t feel like it was actually about her -- that he didn’t really know her very well -- and then because it seemed entirely overblown. They know each other better now. In fact, she’s relatively sure she knows him very well.

“Remus,” Lily says, glancing across the table, “What did he do?”

Remus offers a minute shake of his head, his time-old signal for ‘I’m not getting involved’, and continues smirking into his shepherd’s pie.

James knocks their feet together under the table.

“That’s --- incredibly insulting,” James says, “Almost rude.”

“And --- a correct assumption?” Lily suggests.

“Well, as it happens,” James continues, “Yes, but --- still, very hurtful.”

“Out with it, Potter.”

“Well I’m,” James begins, “I’m going to have to rearrange tomorrow evening.”

“On account of?”

“Pretending he’d caught a Demiguise,” Peter says, “And launching into a --- lengthy performance about it, for --- what was it, thirty minutes?”

“Well, I thought it would liven the lesson up a bit,” James says, “It’s awfully dull, doing a whole class on something no one can see, and I’d said one of my parents’ friends had taught me how and --- I didn’t think Kettleburn would actually buy it.”

“Right,”

“And then he got all excited, so I pretended to have a --- long conversation with it,” James says, “About predicting the future.”

“It was incredible,” Peter says.

“And then it had gone on too long, really, and I said ---”

“ --- actually sir, I think I’m mistaken,” Peter grins, “I think it might just be a large, invisible, talking squirrel.”

“The point being, I have detention.”

“I see,”

“But really, Kettleburn should’ve known better,”

“Yes,” Lily agrees, “He has met you before, which should’ve led to the base assumption that you’re full of shit.”

James’ expression goes on a bit of a journey, of amusement then mock-offence. He eventually settles on a slightly sheepish grin.

“Wednesday night?” He says, brightly.

“No can do, James,” Lily says, “I’m having a girl’s night with Roisin.”

“And what, prey, happens on a girl’s night?” Sirius asks, arriving with his normal ability to draw attention to himself, sitting down to her left, and beginning to fill his plate.

“Well,” Lily says, “We both bemoan how much time we spend hanging out with blokes, nowadays, and then make a commitment that our lives don’t revolve around men, that they’re all rubbish and what not. And then we’ll drink a bottle of wine, eat a lot of chocolate and talk about you all.”

“Fascinating,” Sirius nods.

“What, specifically, about us?” James asks.

“Classified,” Lily says. “Especially given I was promised dinner, which it seems I’m not getting.”

“Thursday?” James suggests.

“Prefect’s meeting.”

“Oh, yeah,” James says, “Well, it’ll have to be at some point next week instead, then.”

“What’s Prongs gone and done now?” Sirius asks, glancing between them. “Ballsing it up, are we? Never mind, eh, you gave it a good shot.”

“Be nice, Padfoot,” Remus says, “Given we benefit from James being a prat.”

“Do we?” Sirius asks, “Why is that now?”

“Pete got detention too,” James says, “For laughing too hard. So. Dorm’s yours, lads.”

“James, you are a true gent.” Sirius says, “Sacrificing date night like that.”

“See, Lily, I was doing a good deed,” James says, “Practically giving to charity.”

“Will it be a nice long detention, James?” Sirius asks, eager. Lily smiles. She’s aware that her existence has led to a lot more competition for being able to make-out (or, for those two, significantly more intimacy than that) in peace. They’d graciously not complained about it, but she could sense a degree of irritability — from Sirius, specifically— blooming before Christmas. The fact Peter had gone home for the holidays and James had split his Christmas between meeting Lily’s parents and Lily coming to the Potters while Remus-and-Sirius had stayed at school had certainly helped.

“We’re with Hagrid.”

“Oh, excellent.” Sirius says.

“Don’t get too excited yet, Pads, I’m supposed to be patrolling,” Remus says. “I’m working on getting out of it, but Stebbins told me to fuck off when I asked to swap. Apparently, I’m in patrol-debt.”

“Can’t you resign, or something?” Sirius says, “Just -- don’t show up. What are the Head Gits going to do?”

“I’ll do your patrol, Remus.” Lily says.

“Really?”

“Yes,” Lily sighs, “Given my date’s standing me up. It’s for a good cause.”

“Evans,” Sirius says, and then reaches forward and kisses her on the forehead in a way that’s incredibly wet. She huffs. “You’re a gem. The greatest.”

“So,” James asks, looking up at her with his puppy dog eyes, “Am I in the dog house?”

“Would there be a point?” Lily asks, smiling at him, bemused. “No, James, being upset with you for being exactly who you are seems --- utterly pointless.”

“You are a gem.” James says, throwing arm around her shoulder. “The greatest. Fabulous.”

“Just try and stay out of trouble next week,” Lily says, “I do have some limits.”

“Which I’m sure our Prongs will stumble slap bang into at some point,” Sirius says, cheerfully.

“Oh,” Lily says, “About next week, actually. Alice got back to me about our next drink. Can I borrow the map on Tuesday?”

The shift in atmosphere is abrupt, awkward.

“Uh -- no, sorry,” James says. “We’ll be needing it.”

“The cloak, then.” Lily says, impatiently.

“No,” James says, his forehead creasing. “We need both.”

“For?”

“Planning something for your Birthday,” Sirius says, “Top secret. Didn’t want you to know about it.”

“Right. And you can’t do that another night?”

“Well,” James says, clearly uncomfortable, “Can’t you meet Alice another night?” Lily stares at him, her expression set. He’s not meeting her eye. “It’s, well, they are ours, after all.”

“I see,” Lily says, stiffly.

“Look, uh —- Lily —”

“No,” Lily says, prim. “Fine. I understand perfectly.”

It’s horribly, thickly awkward as she finishes eating the rest of her food. She’s aware that Sirius and Remus are having some silent, wordless conversation with looks across the table, while Pete is openly staring at the side of her face. James isn’t looking at her at all.

She sets her cutlery down as soon as she’s finished.

“Lily,” James says, regretfully, as she starts extracting herself from the bench. “Where are you —-?”

“I am going to write to Alice,” Lily says, folding her arms over her chest. “Can I use your owl, James, or is that yours too?”

“Of course you —-”

“You know,” Lily says, as she pulls her bag onto her shoulder. “Lying about planning to do something for my birthday does actually mean that you’re now obligated to do something.”

“We’re not —” James says, hand in his hair.

“—- and it better bloody well be good.”

*

Of course, given they have curated a magical map, it’s entirely pointless to try and hide from any of them. She could sequester herself away in her dormitory if she really wanted to -- which is effective unless they decided to send Remus Lupin, which she highly doubts they would -- but of course, Lily actually does want him to come after her, because she’s become accustomed to James offering her emotional support and because she has questions.

“Hey,” James says, sliding down into the seat opposite her in the library. He looks fretful, slightly grim, entirely too serious. His hair displays his nervousness. She’d like to have had the map to see what he’d done in the forty minutes since she last saw him, but of course one of them has it. Remus, probably.

They’ve not really had a proper argument in the three months since they’ve been dating. There’d been that upset after the disastrous meeting with Petunia and Vernon, but she’d been less angry at him than thoroughly irritated with the whole thing. He’d been incredibly apologetic when she’d cried, then had somehow won her back to laughter before too long. This already feels more substantial, more wholly important.

“Hi, James.” Lily says, dipping her quill in her inkwell, and continuing to write.

“Sorry, about earlier.”

“Right.” Lily says.

“Our thing --- can’t really be moved, or I would.”

Lily sets down her quill. She hadn’t quite decided how she was going to bring it up, but apparently it’s too close to the surface than for her to be anything but direct.

“James,” Lily says, “Tuesday is a full moon.”

She hadn’t been aware of that. It hadn’t occurred to her, and then some of the cogs had started turning in her head, some instinctive knowledge tugging at her to pay attention. She’d taken a deviation after posting her letter in the Owlery, took a left up to the Astronomy tower to look at the charts on the wall, up at the sky, and then she’d come back down to the library to think, and wait for James to come to find her.

“Is it?” James asks, with an entirely unbelievable look of surprise. It’s a stupid play regardless of whatever they’re planning. Given he shares a bedroom with a werewolf, Lily would be exceptionally surprised if he didn’t always know the date of the next moon, because Lily used to.

Lily always used to know.

She’d been very aware of the lunar cycles of the moon since she’d first had her suspicion about Remus. After she’d dropped Astronomy, it had been the patrolling schedules that had her keeping track, but… James had taken them over since September. She hadn’t quite noticed it happening. He’d offered that first time, then he’d just… absorbed the responsibility. She’d been grateful for it. She’d been pleased that he’d shown some initiative, but now --- now she has this sneaking suspicion that it was a calculated move. He’d done it on purpose.

Because she should know, more than ever. She’s spent more time with Remus Lupin than she ever has before, which means she should be entirely more aware of the moons, and the more she thinks about it, the more sure she is that the only reason she would genuinely have no idea when the last one was, is if they’re all making a concentrated, committed effort to have her look in the other way.

“James.” Lily says, curt. James’ attempt at an innocent expression dissolves at the tone of her voice.

“Could we have this conversation --- somewhere more private?” James asks, glancing around. She’d picked one of the quietest, most tucked-away corners of the library, but they are still in the library.

“I cast a Muffliato when I saw you coming.” Lily says, pointed. There’s a sharpness in her voice that she’s not sure she has the capacity to remove.

“Right,” James says, nods. “Okay.”

“I don’t appreciate being manipulated.”

“Manipulated is a…. strong word.” James says, looking exceptionally uneasy.

“Deliberately deceitful in a calculated matter. That seems like a reasonable definition.”

“Right,” James says.

“Sirius said they had a nice Christmas at Hogwarts,” Lily says, “Which is --- surprising, given the last Full Moon was Christmas Eve. I’d have thought that would make it quite lousy.”

She’d looked up the rest of them too. All the way back to the summer, which is the last time that she could remember any of them bringing it up in conversation, when Remus said he was coming back to school early.

She’d been highly irritated with herself for not realising about Christmas Eve. She’d been horribly struck by the fact that she’d been having a cheerful time in Cokeworth, when Remus probably spent half the day in the Hospital Wing feeling dreadful. For a moment, she’d felt thoroughly self-centered. She had wondered why they hadn’t wanted to go back to Sirius’ flat, or the Potters, but the thought hadn’t taken root enough for her to question it too much. She’d been too nervous about the idea of bringing James home to meet her parents, caught up in her own world, and missed it entirely. Sirius had said something about not wanting to miss the last excellent Turkey Dinner at Hogwarts that she’d simply accepted without further questions. They had certainly lied about it though. Specifically not mentioned it, and either the whole lot of them were as ignorant and self-centered as her and hadn’t registered that Remus was likely to have a shitty Christmas —- which she cannot imagine— or they’d chosen to have all of those conversations out of her earshot.

“Well I think he meant the Christmas Break in general,” James says, “He said they celebrated a few days late.”

“To you,” Lily says, “He didn’t mention any of it to me.”

She did remember the November moon in the vague sense, but she’d only become aware of it in the aftermath, when Remus took a Friday off class. She hadn’t seen much of any of them that day. The week proceeding it had been entirely clogged up with James obsessively talking about the upcoming Quidditch match, and practice, and --- in retrospect, Remus had made himself very scarce —- but everything with James had been fresh-enough that she’d been distracted enough not to really notice.

“Well, there’s probably plenty Sirius goes on about to me that he spares you from. He’s doing you a favour, really.”

“James. Stop it.”

The October moon had been --- right before all that business with the revelation about Snape, when Lily was avoiding them on account of having nearly kissed James on the roof. She’d thought James was just respecting her wishes to be left alone. She’d been somewhat surprised that he’d allow her to wrap herself in space without pushing at the time. And now, she’s ---

--- She is quite, quite sure that they’ve all been adjusting their behaviour to stop her noticing things for months.

James' jaw shuts.

“You’re not good enough of a liar for me to want to hear anymore of it.” Lily says, folding her arms over her chest.

“I’m,” James says, “This makes it all sound a lot worse than it is.”

“It certainly isn’t good, James.”

“No,” James agrees. “I appreciate that.”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“No one thinks that.” James says, quietly.

“You don’t trust me.”

“I do.” James says.

“Just not with this,” Lily says, “Whatever this is. And you’d rather —- try and get away with some stupid lie, than just be honest.”

“That’s not what I want to do, we just…”

“And that’s just it,” Lily says, “We. I knew you were all hiding something before we started dating. I ---- decided that I could live with it, but -- what do you expect me to do, James? Just look the other way whenever you feed me some bullshit?”

“No,” James says, “No, I don’t. We just —-“

“And it’s not just you lying to me, it’s all my friends. In a concentrated effort. Do you have your little cult meetings after I’ve gone to bed? Discuss what you’re going to distract me with next?”

“Lily.”

“What’s the point of all this —-this relationship —- been to you?”

“Well, I don’t know if I’d define any relationship as having a point, in so much as --- that I’ve wanted to understand you and get to be near you and to try and… support you and make you happy, which clearly isn’t going very well at this exact moment, but I’d thought, by and large, that I wasn’t doing a terrible job,” James says, and he agitatedly messes up his hair, “Look. I really understand why you’re upset with us. Me. I do.”

Lily looks back down at her parchment. She picks up her quill again, glares at it. She’s got no chance whatsoever of focusing on Charms, but she wanted the illusion of having something else that she’s focusing on, as if it will somehow lessen everything else.

“No one thinks you’re an idiot. If anything, it’s because you’re so smart that we’ve ---”

“--- been manipulating me,” Lily substitutes.

“Well, I wouldn't put it ---”

“The Prefect schedules, James.”

He shuts his mouth, slowly. He doesn’t try and defend himself again. She’s glad of it. She thinks another re-direct might have pushed her over the edge.

“How am I supposed to know this whole relationship isn’t some --- magician’s trick to distract me?”

“Well, because that would be --- horrible,” James says, “And frankly a really bad strategy.”

“Multiple times you have asked me to trust you. Give you the benefit of the doubt. And I have.” Lily says, “And no point have you really attempted to help me understand why I’m doing it. I have accepted it, with some minimal explanation that you’re ‘protecting someone’. And instead of --- doing the courtesy of being straight with me that you’re continuing to hide something --- you’ve been practising some --- awful sleight of hand to make me look the other way. It’s insulting, it’s patronising and it makes me question how much I can trust you. How much you respect me.”

“Shit,” James says, and rubs his face, “Lily.”

“I need you to cut out all your stupid posturing and just speak to me. Right now, James. ”

“Yeah, okay,” James nods, his throat bobbing. He spends a while choosing what to say, his expression torn up in thought. When he does speak, his voice is deliberate, low, and calm. “Yes, we’re hiding something from you. You know that. We know you know that. Us hiding it from you has absolutely nothing to do with how much respect anyone has for you, especially not me. It’s just —- complicated.” James says, brow furrowed.

His gaze sticks on her abandoned charms homework for a moment, then he taps his fingers against the desk. If she was feeling less stung by all of it she might have found watching him try to detangle his thoughts into something he was prepared to say out loud more interesting. There’s an underlying agitation in it, not quite nervousness, but certainly hyper-awareness.

“We thought --- we thought it would be better if you…ran into that fact as little as possible. So, yes, we’ve … avoided discussing certain things in front of you, and capitalised on some advantages that presented themselves, which now I’m saying it out loud does sound bloody awful. We didn’t mean it to be, though. I mean, honestly, in part we didn't want you to have any more — intel, given you’re …. Observant, smart as hell, but we also, genuinely, thought it would feel better not to keep butting up against it, given every time it has come up you’ve been —- upset, which isn’t enjoyable for anyone. We were trying not to upset you, in a backwards way that started to feel like a really horrible idea about ten minutes ago.”

“Right,” Lily says. She sucks in a deep breath, stares at her mostly-blank parchment. It is a relief to actually acknowledge it, but it has her jammed against the brick wall that she’s found herself up against a dozen times. It doesn’t really seem to matter what she does, because she’s always, persistently cast in the role of ‘outsider.’ She looks at him, in the eyes. She hasn’t directly asked for it for a long time. “And you haven’t considered the other option of just telling me, James?”

She’ll give him credit for not looking away.

“I can’t.”

“You can't.” Lily says, acidly.

“Lily,” James says, pained, “Lily. Look —- not all secrets are bad, some are just ——secrets. And you have a duty to keep them—— like,” He says, searching round for something. “Like you making up a fake girlfriend for Remus when Roisin was asking questions, because, well, Remus is Remus and doesn’t like people looking at him, even if it’s just a ‘huh’ double take, and there’s plenty of people in the world who’d probably do worse than that with it because they’re right wankers. It doesn’t mean you don’t trust her, it’s just —- not your secret to decide what happens with it. This is like that.”

It’s a very convoluted way of saying that this, apparently, is not his decision.

“Okay,” Lily says, nods, “The thing is, I know the four people who presumably own this secret very well, and I don’t understand why any of them wouldn’t trust me, given I have a very lengthy track record of keeping all of your stupid secrets.”

“I don’t think it’s about trust as such.”

“Of course not,” Lily says, thick with sarcasm. “Why would this be about trust?”

“You can’t —- unknow something,” James says, “And they—— colour things differently. I don’t really want you to know about that time I fell off my broom into a fanged rose bush and had to pluck fangs out of places you don’t want to pluck things out of, not because I don’t trust you, just because it makes me look like a pillock.”

“So you’re claiming you’re doing all this because you're scared of looking stupid. That’s —- absurd.”

“Not stupid, exactly, just —— different.”

“Different.” Lily repeats. She can tell he knows she’s not buying a minute of it. He carries on, his voice turning lower.

“Well I think it’s a bit that… and, look, the thing is, every time we’ve told you something, it hasn’t gone well. Initially, I mean. And this—— there’s some consequences.”

Lily bristles, feels this anger spark up in her chest.

“So I’m being punished for that, am I?”

“No, that’s not what I ---”

“How was I supposed to react?” Lily asks, “What about it did I get ‘wrong’? That wasn’t to your liking---?”

“That’s really not what I’m ---”

“I am sorry if my emotions are an inconvenience to you ---”

“Lily, they’re not, it’s just with that —- with the map, you wanted to go to Dumbledore. And, in October, you said you were going to McGonagall. And I know you didn’t, you didn’t, which we ——— appreciate, honestly, truly, but — things would be really bad if you did, with this. And I can conceive, in the moment, that you might really feel like doing that and you’re — when you’re upset, you are, I think it’s reasonable to say, slightly… volatile.”

“You’re calling me a hot head.” Lily says, her voice flat.

“I am suggesting that you are an…. emotional decision maker,” James says.

“You’ve met your friend, Sirius Black?”

“I have,” James nods, “He’s more —- hot headed in an entirely self-destructive reckless rebellion sort of way, where you’ve got more of a righteous justice sort of thing, which is brilliant, for the record, but it might not do the situation any favours.”

“You think I’d be upset by it.”

“There are ---- mixed opinions.” James says, evenly. His expression is unreadable, but the confirmation that they have all sat round and discussed this wrangles her. It stings. She sucks in a sharp breath, looks away from him. She folds her arms over her chest again.

“And you can’t just make me promise not to tell anyone before you tell me?”

“Feels a bit unreasonable to dictate your decision about something before you know what it is,” James says, which is frustratingly fucking reasonable. That irks her further, because at this point she’s irritated enough that she wants to be annoyed at him. She’d quite like to be incredibly ‘volatile’ and tell him where the lot of them can shove their secrets, but she’s very aware that he is trying. He is actually being honest. He could’ve continued to package that all up in a way that sounded better. She still absolutely fucking hates all of it. “I’m not about to get into the business of telling you what to do.”

Lily blinks.

“I don’t like this, James.”

“No,” James agrees, that fretful, serious look on his face. “I don’t really like it either.”

“So I’m just supposed to —— sit here and wait indefinitely for the rest of your club to decide whether or not to vote me in?”

“Well,” James says, and his voice sounds small. “Like I said, I can’t --- I can’t make you do anything. But. I’d really like it if you did.”

Lily exhales harshly. She looks down at her parchment.

“I don’t think I want to talk about this anymore.”

“Lily.”

“No,” she says, “Because regardless of your intent, I am upset, and I feel very small and unimportant and given you’ve made it abundantly clear what things aren’t going to change, I’m not sure what you can say that isn’t just going to make me feel worse.”

James swallows. He looks down at his hands.

“Can I --- walk you back to the Common Room?”

“I have homework,” Lily says, this horrible condensed-frustration in her voice.

“You’re not going to get anything done like this,” James says, low, “Let me walk you back. Chuck a First Year out of your favourite seat and get you your book. Wilberforth. I’ll make Sirius do your homework, he owes me.”

“James.”

“I’d offer to do it myself, but he’s better at Charms than me, and he did say his New Year's resolution was to try new things. Pretty sure he meant LSD and getting a tattoo, but Charms homework would certainly be a new thing.”

Lily looks at him for a few moments. His persistence hasn’t changed, even if it’s morphed. He is completely impossible to stay annoyed at and, of course, that is exactly, precisely what she would like to do, disregarding the evicting First Years and trusting anything penned by Sirius Black. She would very much like to sit by the fire and disappear into herself. Of course he has to know that. She can’t really believe she ever labelled him as unobservant.

She sighs, starts collecting her things together.

“Don’t let Sirius take LSD,” Lily says, “Or at the very least take his wand off him first.”

“Good call. And I’ll make sure Moony’s got his camera out,” James adds, swinging her bag over his shoulder. “I’m needing more blackmail material. Wasted that last photo.”

“You’re all so stupid.” Lily says.

“You might have a point about that,” James agrees, nodding thoughtfully.

They walk back in the midst of that easy-innane sort of chat that James is brilliant at pulling out when he deems it necessary. For the first couple of staircases, she keeps her arms folded tight over her chest, but then either something in her frustration breaks, or her desire for some touchstone of comfort overtakes her, and she takes his hand. His palm is warm and steady. He squeezes it, tight, and doesn’t mention it. Just keeps them on a forward path towards the Common Room.

“Lily,” James says, when they reach the Fat Lady, “For the record, you are --- the furthest thing from small or unimportant to me. You’re --- the whole world, really.”

Lily’s throat feels very sharp and thick.

He hasn’t really offered up any big, flowery sentiments in words, which she’d actually been relieved about. She’d had visions of him being hyper-intense, tipping them into awkward territory, with James being years into having feelings and expecting her to quickly catch up. She’s felt very secure in the fact that he’s very invested in her, but this is one of the few things he’s said out loud.

She pulls him into a hug. Stays in it for a long time.

It’s a disarming thing to have the person currently upsetting her also be the person she wants to comfort her in her upset. She’s fallen into the rather alarming habit of treating him a lot like a best friend as well as her boyfriend.

They walk into the Common Room together.

“Ah, looks like it’s our gits we’ll have to evict for your seat.” James says, nodding to where Peter, Remus and Sirius are sitting in her favourite spot, spread across two sofas and an armchair.

“It’s fine, James, I’ll — I’ll come over. Join you lot for a bit.”

“Sure?” James says, “Wouldn’t blame you if you wanted time out.”

“No,” She returns, winding through the collection of armchairs to take a seat before he can ask her why, because she can’t quite quantify it. It’s a little bit like pressing a bruise, because there’s the undercurrent of rejection, but she also —- wants to spend the rest of the evening not thinking about it, and they’re always very good value for a distraction. She takes the other end of Sirius’ sofa given that, unusually, Remus-and-Sirius are on separate pieces of furniture, apparently to facilitate the game of chess that’s currently occupying most of Peter and Sirius’ attention.

“Evening, Evans,” Sirius says, half looking up from his board. He’s losing. Badly, from the look of it. “Prongs.”

“Alright,” James says, pausing to prod Sirius in the back of the neck. “You’re doing Lily’s Charms homework, Padfoot.”

Sirius looks up at him, arches an eyebrow in question. Lily’s about to protest that he’s joking, when Sirius carries on.

“Flitwick sets homework? You’d’ve thought someone might have mentioned it in the last seven years.”

“They did, Pads,” Remus says, “Flitwick. Every lesson.”

“Well, right you are,” Sirius says, he stretches thoughtfully, then knocks his Queen over with a deliberate push. “Where is it, then?”

Peter lets out a frustrated half-squeak.

“Back in a minute,” James says, squeezes her shoulder and then heads for the stairs. She turns and watches him go for a second, then twists back to watch Peter and Sirius bickering.

“You only did that because I was winning!” Pete complains.

“Tosh,” Sirius throws back, “I’d have flattened you, but when a man’s given an important mission he has to reprioritise.”

“You wanker.” Pete mutters.

“Bad sportsmanship!” One of Peter’s Rooks agrees, which inspires a litany of protest. She half-catches Peter’s Queen calling him a ‘fucking-coward’ and his bishop making an incredibly lewd gesture. She understands that the set is a Potter family heirloom, that Sirius ‘heavily influenced’ one summer.

“Now Pete, that’s no way to be a bad loser.”

“I didn’t lose,” Peter huffs, “You still lost.”

“That’s no way to be a bad winner, then,” Sirius counters, with a dazzling grin. Then he’s standing up to take her bag from where James placed it next to the foot of the sofa, taking the seat next to Remus, swinging his feet up onto the table --- several chess players go flying, one of the Knights yelling ‘you squirrely knave!’ as he goes -- and then starts rummaging through her things. “Nothing in here you don’t want me to see, Lily?”

“Well, it’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?” Lily asks, bemused despite herself.

“The trick to forging homework --- is mimicking the penmanship. Ah, this will help,” He says, unravelling a page of her Defence notes and examining them. “Is this what people do in class?” Sirius asks, directing the question at Remus.

“Write notes? Shockingly, yes.”

“Interesting,” Sirius says, as he pulls out a roll of parchment, a quill and an inkwell. “Charms — Homework — Lily --- Evans,” He writes, slowly, then twists the parchment in his direction, “Moony, what do you reckon?”

Remus leans over his shoulder, hums thoughtfully. Lily is relatively sure they’re just using it as a ploy to minimise the space between them, but then Remus carries on the bit.

“No, your S’s aren’t right,” Remus says, “They’re more—-” he says, reaching out to guide his hand over the parchment.

“Like this?”

“Better,” Remus says, “And curlier ‘y’s. Neater.”

“Right,” Sirius says, “And what was the assignment?”

“Twelve inches on the impervius charm.”

“Godrick, really? Surely there can’t be that much to say,” Sirius says, disgruntled. “Alright. Next lesson, Lily. Once you’ve gotten the penmanship right, it’s all about getting into the right persona,” He says, eyes darting over her for a few moments as if taking her in, before he starts to dictate the words he’s writing. “My -- name -- is --- Lily --- Evans -- and -- I --- am -- a --- ginger -- bint.”

“Well,” Remus says, leaning back and smirking. “This could be interesting.”

“ I --- pretend --- to --- be--- an --- innocent --- goody --- two --- shoes --- when --- I --- am -- actually -- a --- rule --- flouting --- diabolical --- powerhouse --- of --- a --- woman.”

“That’s almost sweet, Sirius,” Lily says, and then James arrives back carrying Wilberforth and a bar of Honeydukes. He gently deposits the cat on her lap-- him having tolerated the journey more than Lily would’ve expected, but her cat happens to really like James -- then James leap-frogs over the arm of the sofa to slump into the seat next to her. “Oh,” Lily says, as Wilberforth starts butting her hands to be stroked. “Hello.”

“He likes the windowsill on the boy’s stairs,” James says. His glasses are slightly wonky on his nose and he --- just retrieved her cat for her, and is now holding a bar of honeydukes in her direction, which might make him perfect. “Chocolate?”

“Tehnically, that’s mine,” Remus says, a smile floating at the corner of his mouth.

“Well, mate,” James says, as he throws an arm over the back of the sofa. “You were the one telling me about that Muggle political thing. Socialism, was it? I’m redistributing wealth.”

“It isn’t inherently Muggle,” Remus says, “And there’s a degree of irony about being subject to Socialism by James Potter.”

Lily snorts, burying it in Wilberforth’s fur.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s saying you’re a privileged git, Prongs,” Sirius says, “And he would be right.”

“Well, that aside, I'm a chocolate-communist.” James says, “Lily?”

She really, really would like some chocolate.

“I’ll owe you, Remus.”

“Forget about it.” Remus says, “Power to the people. Enjoy.”

Lily breaks off a chunk, then shifts so she’s under James’ arm. He offers her a big, hopeful smile, and he --- really, he has no right to be so bloody sweet when she is still so annoyed at him, but —- it happens to be very nice, to curl up on his chest, with Wilberforth purring on hers, to eat chocolate and listen to them all.

Sirius, apparently discontented with the attention having moved off him, clears his throat and begins narrating his next line.

“I --- first --- discovered --- a --- love -- of --- charms -- when -- I --- charmed --- a --- certain --- specky --- prat --- with -- - my --- pert ---” Sirius pauses, to dip his quill back in his inkwell.

“Oi, watch yourself, Black.” James says, lazily. His hand is in her hair.

“Let me finish,” Sirius says, impatiently, “With --- my ---pert-icularly -- loud -- opinions —- and — quick —- wit.”

“Wait, what are all my chess pieces doing on the floor?” James asks, “Pete, what have we told you about throwing a tantrum when Sirius lets you win at chess?”

“He didn’t let me win, you —- “

“And —of —- course --my --- massive -- pair --- of --- oh, bloody quills,” Sirius says, making a show of dabbing the parchment with the sleeve of his robes, to blot away the blob of ink on his parchment. “Right, where was I? Oh, that’s it : my massive pair of -- doc --martens.”

“Christ,” Remus says, pinching his brow.

Despite it all, Lily finds herself giggling into her cat.

In the end, she almost-dozes curled under James’ arm, half watching the chess match Pete and Remus get into, half listening to the conversation, a little bit trying to push back the pervasive question of which of them it is that doesn’t trust her. Sirius is the first to declare he’s going to bed, tossing her a rolled up bit of parchment of her finished homework —- and she’s stunned to discover that, under his initial few paragraphs that he’d read out, he’s actually written ten or so inches about the impervius charm in an attempt her scrawl, and that it’s actually, infuriatingly good — and heading upstairs on his own. The fact that Remus barely acknowledges that he’s going makes her feel slightly antsy, but she chooses to assume that it’s just on account of him being involved in his game of chess. The two of them head up after Remus narrowly loses.

“We should head up, really.” Lily says, blinking up at him. Wilberforth had abandoned them a while back, and she’d used the freedom of movement from being cat-free to settle closer.

“Mmhm, in a bit.” James says, tightening his grip around her waist. There’s hardly any one left in the Common Room anymore. She reaches up and kisses him, slow, unhurried. “Hi.” James says.

“Hello,” Lily returns, bumping their noses together, slotting a hand under his jaw.

“Soon. We’ll —- bed soon.”

Lily nods, skates that hand down his neck, slipping under the collar of shirt, settles on the meat of his shoulder. She uses the grip on his shoulders to maneuver herself further onto his lap.

“Yeah,” Lily echos, “Soon.”

It’s not that soon when they’ve finally talked themselves off the sofa. The fire’s dying, the cold beginning to seep in the room and pinch. They stand, shake themselves down a bit, kiss again at the bottom of the stairs.

“James,” Lily says, “You know this doesn’t —- really change anything. It’s all still—- a problem. Stalemate.”

“Yeah,” James nods, and he looks serious and a bit sad. He pockets his hands. “I know. Night, Lily.”

Chapter Text

The beginning of the weekend comes around quickly and with it the Tuesday-mystery feels a lot heavier and harder to ignore.

“What did Minnie want?” Sirius asks, as James spills out of the transfiguration classroom --- their final class of Friday afternoon --- looking somewhere between bemused and perturbed. They’d been dawdling around outside before heading down for dinner, Lily remaining as deep inside her own head as she has been for days; present for the sake of not having the wherewithal to work out where else she might want to be. And of course, she wants to be precisely here, she just wants to arrange it in her favour.

“She wanted to tell me that it’s snowing.” James says, thrusting his hands into his pocket as they set off down the corridor.

“She’s usually a little more subtle at communicating that she thinks you’re an idiot.” Remus says, raising an eyebrow at the window, where the sky is thick with it. The weather had descended last night, turning the world a sparkling white and the castle crisp with cold. Since then, it had continued relentlessly: depositing a thick layer of sleet on top, then more snow, the fall never quite ebbing enough for it to be enjoyed yet.

“I wonder, Potter, have you noticed the weather?” James says, in a mock-version of McGonagall. Sirius snorts. “And I said, yes, Professor, thank you. We’re so lucky to have such a wise and astute teacher ---”

“--- did she do that pointed-exhale, with the eyebrows?”

“Why yes, Pete, she did,” James says, “And then I --- well, the point being, they’re shutting the Quidditch Pitch. Some bollocks about black ice. Like it matters when you’re mid air.”

“Hard luck, Prongs.”

“I had plans, mate,” James says, “This was going to be our bootcamp weekend.”

“I bet the team will be very disappointed.” Remus says, smirking a bit.

“It’s only a bit of --- snow.”

“Have you actually seen it?” Lily asks, arching a brow up at him. James looks out of the window, makes a face.

“Alright,” James says, “It is a bit ---- , I hope it clears up over the weekend, or we’ll --- well. But, good news, Lily ---” He says, falling into step with her at the front of the pack. They’ve barely crossed paths the last couple of days, managing to see each other in lessons and at meals and for brief touchpoints, but without having time to have a proper conversation between his detention, her girls night and the rigmarole of the big monthly Prefect Meeting, which has left her entirely too much time to think. To dwell. For everything to curdle in her stomach and become complicated. “That dinner I owe you. Saturday night? Sunday?”

“No,” Lily says, her hands deep in her pockets, directly facing forward. “I don’t really feel like it, to be honest.”

“Right,” James says. He nods. She can feel the others listening to them now, which is terrible, but she doesn’t want to sneak out of the castle with James Potter to be swept off to dinner when she’s achingly, horribly aware that he has the capacity to lie to her. Consistently. Not necessarily well, but sufficiently well enough for her not to notice for a while. She’s swayed between a variety of different feelings about it in the last few days and she doesn’t know quite how to quantify exactly how she feels now, just that going on a date does not sound remotely appealing. It’s thrust her into a place of feeling vulnerable about her own feelings; a stark realisation of how much she cares, and therefore how much it has the capacity to hurt. “Can I --- ask why?”

“You know why.” Lily says.

“Yeah, okay,” James says, his voice stripped back of some of his usual performance.

“I just --- can’t right now, James.”

“Well can we --- have a conversation?”

“Is there a point?” Lily asks, “It’s just --- it is how it is.”

“Yeah, I think there is,” James says, catching hold of her hand, stopping her from walking, pulling her to the side of the corridor. There’s an urgent sort of look in his expression. “I’ve hardly seen you all week, and ---- Lily, can we ---”

Her resolve crumples.

“Fine, yes,” Lily says, folding her arms and facing him.

“Okay,” James nods.

Sirius clears his throat. There’s an irritated, grim pinch in the center of his brow, which stands him apart from the look of faraway discomfort Remus is embodying, or Peter trying to shrink into himself.

“We’ll see you later.” Sirius says, clapping James on the shoulder. Officially, Friday is supposed to be Marauder night — kept free insofar as is possible to hang out, which she’s been implicitly — and, occasionally explicitly actually invited at points where she’s been making herself scarce — been considered part of since September. They’d already killed the idea of going to the Shack, with Peter declaring that they’d never been able to get it to an acceptable temperature in winter, which meant the likelihood was the evening would be spent in their dorm. She’d been considering ducking out of it all together, because the idea of another evening of sitting around and wondering which of them doesn’t want her sounds entirely unappealing.

“Yeah,” James says, “Later.”

They’re quiet for a few long moments after the others disappear, Lily pointedly waiting for him to speak given he’s the one who wants to have a conversation. Jame stares at her, looking entirely lost for how to start. That had been part of the reason for her reluctance, because another round of James side-stepping around what he can and can’t say only serves to twist the rejection deeper. She’s entirely sure it will only make him feel worse too. And —— Lily has had things to say. There have been a myriad of thoughts. None of them seemed particularly helpful. She doesn’t like any of the options she’s left with.

“Bet you gave me a terrible review to Roisin on Girl’s night,” James says, which is a weak start and has her huffing irritably. It does break the big silence though, tips them over onto more fertile ground for conversation.

“Obviously, I didn’t say anything about any of this.” Lily says. “Because I wouldn’t.”

“That’d be why she hasn’t thrown a Quaffle at my head then,” James says, “Brilliant aim, that woman.”

“James.”

“Right,” James says, and he looks at the centre of the corridor for a moment. When he looks back at her to meet her gaze, his expression is drawn, serious. “Lily. Just --- please, don’t break it off with me.”

That brings her up short. The words take her entirely by surprise, because they're so far from any of the options she’s considered. She’s thought a lot, and that hadn’t ever really crossed her mind. First, her brain sticks on why she hadn’t even considered it —- because it’s certainly one way to break out of this stalemate, this idea that she isn’t trusted, but she’d skimmed over the option so quickly it’d never really settled as an actual thought, and then — then she’s horrified by this idea that James has.

That James would go there so quickly.

“What?” Lily asks, and she can feel her forehead crease, the wind fully taken out of sails. “James, no. I —- definitely not.”

“Right.” James says, his hand disappearing into his hair. He’s awkward, slightly unsure.

“Why would you think that?”

“I just ---“ James stalls, looking momentarily entirely lost. It’s such a foreign expression on his face that it causes a jolt of unease in her gut. “Well, you --- said we were at a stalemate and you don’t want to go to dinner, and…”

“We’re in the middle of a fight.”

“Sort of,” James says, “I mean, I know we didn’t finish talking about it, but you didn’t ---”

“Exactly,” Lily says, “We haven’t finished talking about it. I don’t want to --- dump you. I want to --- finish talking about it.”

“Well, you also said you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“James, I needed some time to think, and — then talk about it.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought initially, but…” James says, cutting himself off. She’s never seen him like this. Horribly unsure of himself.

“James.”

“Well I don’t ——” James begins, stalls. He’s messing up his hair in earnest. "You've never really said. How you feel. About me. I —-I assumed that you, well, it certainly seems like you like all the —— kissing, but, uh….”

Lily feels herself going very still.

“And it’s --- I’m very serious, about this, Lily. I know I might --- act like I don’t take things seriously, but I do. And I don’t want to come across as some --- intense creep, so I haven’t said it, but I’m --- I am. Serious.”

“I know,” Lily says, her voice small.

“And I really don’t know how ---- , uh, how you feel. How seriously you’re taking this, see, so I’m…” James trails off, shrugs, this awful thing that’s trying very hard to be casual.

“Well, I don’t know.” Lily says. James winces, hurt flickering across his face, raw and unfiltered for a moment, and then he has control of it. Lily reaches out and grabs hold of his arm, quickly. “No sorry, James, that sounds —— horrible, I didn’t mean it like that, of course I ---” She trails off, feeling her throat thick. She feels very exposed in the centre of the corridor. “Maybe --- maybe we should have this conversation somewhere else.”

James nods. Leads her down the corridor with his hands in his pocket, neither of them touching. The absence of it is horrible. She folds her arms over her chest to stop herself from feeling too exposed by it. Her head's swimming. She’s caught on the guttural, vicious ‘no’ that had risen up at the idea of ending their relationship; James not knowing how she feels.

They end up in the Prefect’s bathroom. It’s far from ideal, but it is more private than most of the bloody castle --- even more since they spread word of most the secret passages to half the populace of Hogwarts -- and, as bathrooms go, it is actually very nice.

James conjures up something halfway between a pile of cushions and an air-mattress. Then he makes a point of actually running the bath with some nervous-commentary about a foot spa. She watches him fuss, her head spinning over the words he’d said, flashbacking over half a dozen times that James has made jokes about her feelings: you’re besotted with me, Lily adores me, can’t be away from me. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might, actually, have been mining for information. That he genuinely didn’t know.

And he’s right, as he often is when he calls her out on things. She hasn’t said anything.

Eventually, he runs out of ways to keep himself busy and sits down. He kicks off his shoes, rolls up his trousers and dips his feet in the water. Lily follows suit, shrugging off her tights and setting them down with her shoes. She sits down next to him, eases her feet into the water, letting the fragrant warmth flood over her toes. The whole place has been freezing all day, and it’s possibly the first time she’s actually been able to feel her feet. Their hands are touching on the edge of the bath.

“So,” James says.

“So,” Lily echos. There’s silence for a few moments. Lily knows full well it’s her time to talk, and is surprised by how difficult it is. She’d thought they’d been doing well. It’s quite alarming to suddenly find herself tongue-tied, which hadn’t happened after that first incredibly-awkward first half an hour in Hogsmeade, before she’s snapped, pulled him in the pub for a pint and pointed out they’d spent the whole of the previous evening alone together talking about Prefect duties so, really, they both needed to stop being ridiculous and get on with having a nice time. The return of the awkwardness is unwelcome.

“I really don’t know what to do about any of this.” James says.

“James,” Lily says, “Forget about —- that for a moment. I think —- I think this other thing might be more important, and I didn’t mean —— what I said came out badly. I just meant… I am still ——figuring some of it out. I can’t give you a full answer.”

“Well that’s fair enough, it’s only been —-a few months.” James says.

“But that doesn’t mean…. That I’m not serious,” Lily says. “I am. I’m certainly not looking for a reason to break it off. I didn’t realise I hadn’t given you any answer as to my feelings.”

“I know I’m ——” James begins, then he cuts himself off, rubs his face. “I’m further ahead than you.”

They’ve rarely discussed this, because it’s uncomfortable. She hadn’t quite realized that that’s exactly why they should have discussed it. That she’d been operating on a level of security that James doesn’t have at all.

“Yes,” Lily agrees, “That doesn’t mean I …” she trails off, reroutes. “James. I have --- significant feelings for you.” Lily finishes, feeling her skin turn very pink.

“Oh,” James says, his voice thick. He nods. “Good.”

“They’re—- I don’t have specific words for them—”

“No, that’s fine, you don’t… you don’t have to, I just —-”

“ I don’t like the idea of you walking around thinking I’m going to break it off with you because we disagree on something.”

“Not even sure we do, disagree.” James says, his voice low, a crease in his forehead. “It’s just…”

“I wouldn’t’ve started this unless I was ---- well, certain feels like a big statement, but --- I’ve cared about you as a person for a long time before this, and I take your feelings very seriously, James. I wouldn’t have gotten into this on a whim. I’m sorry that I didn’t… communicate that.”

James shakes his head slightly, as if trying to bat her apology away.

“I didn’t know you needed reassurance,” Lily carries on, watching him, “You always seem so sure of yourself.”

“Well, I am, a lot of the time, but you’re—- you’ve always been a bit of a mystery, really. I know a lot of the time that was me being dense,” James says, a crease in his forehead, “But —- no, I have no idea what you’re thinking.”

He seems very human. Very real. She’s underestimated him again. Failed to see all that goes on beneath his steady, light-hearted outer-skin.

“You are allowed to ask.”

“Right,” James says, “That’s an idea. I’ll remember that.”

“Whenever you want,” Lily says, “And I’ll ---- I’ll be more open. I’m… this is new territory for me too. My feelings are obvious inside my head, and I thought that would just… translate. And I’ve never… it feels very vulnerable, talking about your feelings. I don’t think I ever gave you enough credit for it.”

“You mean, me yelling I fancy you across the Great Hall?”

“Yes,” Lily says, “I focused on it being stupid and didn’t register that it was also quite brave.”

James laughs, then the easy-expression slips off his skin, falling back into seriousness.

“I know I could’ve --- asked,” James says, “I suppose….I don’t want to scare you off. Be too needy. Given --- all of that.”

“We’ve moved on a lot since then. And —- that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed needs, James,” Lily says, “And I am --- really not intending to be scared off.”

“I don’t want to be a ---- horrible boyfriend.” James says, “I guess I’m still a bit… nervous about getting it all wrong. And then with this… I’m not sure if there’s even a way to get it right, so…”

“James,” Lily says, “You have been, you are, a lovely boyfriend. Really.” James’s throat bobs, he swallows, his hazel-gaze scanning over her face, absorbing her. “You don’t need to overthink it. Look --- there are a number of things I’ve accused you of over the years that I don’t think I’ve ever taken back, and perhaps I should’ve done explicitly, because they’re certainly now how I see you anymore. You’re incredibly thoughtful, when you care about people you are highly aware of their needs, and you can be remarkably kind. I have always known that you can be very sweet. You care for people, James. Look after them. Understand them. I do believe you’ve grown up a great deal, but I was --- I think I was always wrong about some of it. Not all of it,” She says, levelling her gaze on him, “But certainly enough of it that I should’ve told you. I think you’re actually really quite wonderful. ”

James fixes her with a lopsided smile. Some of the tension he’s been carrying in his shoulders lessens. He seems to expand again, sitting up straighter.

“And yes, of course I like kissing you.”

“Was more confident about that,” James says, “You definitely seemed into it.”

“I am,” Lily agrees, and then she looks at him again. “ I brought you home to meet my parents. Quite quickly, really, but…. Dad’s so sick, and… .” She says, trails off. James nods, his eyes steady on her skin. “And,” She carries on, feeling her face hot. She looks down at their feet in the water. “I wanted him to know that I have a --- very good man. I wanted him --- I wanted you to have a chance to have a relationship with him, because I’m working on the assumption that you’re… important. In the big picture of my life important.”

It feels very real out loud. Weighty and bloody terrifying, because not that long ago she’d written him off, and now he’s made a home in her chest, become incredibly … important. Because that’s part of the reason she doesn’t like being held at arm’s length, because there’s very few parts of herself that she even wants to hold back from him.

She carries on.

“I thought, well, I assumed you’d take from that that I’m —— serious, about this.”

James half nods, his brow furrows.

“Yeah, I did, but I —- I get in my head about it, sometimes.”

“Well, I should’ve said properly, really.” Lily says.

“No, I’m …”

“James, you’re allowed not to be able to read my mind.” Lily says, “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

“I just --- really like you, Lily.” James says, and the earnestness is so apparent that she can feel it sink into her chest. It’s probably silly, because he’s implied greater feelings than that, and she’s heard the others refer to him as being ‘in love’ with her enough that he’s sure she’s said it to them, but there’s something in it that feels incredibly real. Significant. She wants to find a way to keep this exact moment: James Potter with his trousers rolled up to just under his knees, sitting in a bathroom, and looking at her just like that. I just — really like you, Lily.

“Well,” Lily says, and she looks at her knees for a moment, then pulls herself back to face him head on. “I really like you too, James Potter.”

James lets out a big breath of air, then smiles. James has a lot of smiles, but she hasn’t seen this one very often. It’s purer, stripped of mischief. It’s entirely contagious. It turns her inside out.

“Lily, I know we haven’t talked about the other thing yet, but --- would it be alright, if I kissed you?”

“Yes,” Lily says, “I think it’s quite important that you do.”

He surges forward to meet her, and he’s --- James. Quite ridiculous, quite brilliant, steady and continually surprising. She turns to meet him, pulls him closer, tugs him in like proximity can chase away the raw exposure of vulnerability, and she——

She’s been somewhat taken by surprise by how much time you can spend kissing, or just absorbing physical proximity, without getting bored with it. She must’ve been doing it wrong before, because with James it’s taken on this addictive sort-of-timeless quality, where she’s never actually sure if they’ve been at it for five minutes or fifty. It shouldn’t be as interesting as it is, because —- they’re just mouths, just bodies, just James but — she has lost a whole free period to being hugged in silence, looking at each other. She has developed a fascination in the shape of his shoulders, the feel of his weight over her, the way he looks at her right before he kisses her. She has learnt a myriad of objectively useless pieces of information: that he always seems to sit on her right, and there’s a certain point after propping himself up on that arm to kiss her that he’ll shift their positions because he can’t hold up his weight anymore; that he really, really, likes twisting his hair through his fingers; that he seems to have an internal log of where it’s mutuality agreed that it’s acceptable for him to touch, and that any deviation must require either permission or, if accidental, an apology. The last she’s found interesting, because he acts like she’s agreed to this charter without them ever discussing it. The first time he’d accidentally brushed up against her breast he’d jerked away and apologised like Lily had strictly told him he wasn’t invited, and when he’d done it on purpose it was with slow, tentative hands and a whispered is this okay. He’d, by and large, been entirely more conscious of her boundaries than she had been (which made a very nice change from the last person she’d kissed, who’d been incredibly handsy and aggressive with his tongue). James —- James she almost felt like she had to invite. That it would require some kind of study to ascertain why he decided that day was the day it was acceptable to slip a hand under her shirt, to undo her bra, when Lily would’ve probably invited him to weeks previously.

Now, though, there’s a heat between them, that’s not so much new as that they’ve been cautious with it. There’d been moments where she’d been caught up enough not to really notice urgency slipping in, but largely they’d been… careful. Slow and exploratory. Fitting into this new world where they had different physical boundaries, getting used to each other. And besides, there'd been time limits, shared dormitories, a distinct lack of privacy. But there’s something about having broken down some barrier, insecurity, something about this week that’s made all of it feel so bloody real, possibly to break, and it’s James’ mouth as he said I just really like you Lily, his scent, the horrible idea of them breaking up, their ridiculous wet ankles from doing all of this in the sodding Prefect’s bathroom, the relief, his broad shoulders, mouth in the hollow of her neck, and —-

She’d been operating from her chest, this big well of feeling that had her aligning their mouths together, trying to do a better job of communicating that --- that this James, whose a little unsure, who needs validation, who can be insecure and sincere scares her, in that he’s entirely more real, easier to want things from, that she wants this James to feel --- wanted, cared for. And then she’s very much pulled out of her feelings, into her body, because —- his hand.

His hands have certainly never been there.

They’ve wound up horizontal, tipping back onto the cushions James conjured, swept up in the momentum of yes, closer please. They’ve been here before, side-by-side, Lily with arms twisted around his neck, drawing him close, and he’d —— he’d been touching her back, then the back of her thighs, then her inner thigh, and now, now —- and he’s looking at her with a ‘am I proceeding?’ look, pupils blown wide, exceptionally handsome. She’s surprised by quite how her skirt has managed to ride up, quite unaware how she’s ended up exactly here, just that she’s, in this moment, very glad that she did because that, that is very good and ——

Rosin had asked. Lily had shrugged it off with a ‘nothing significant to report’ and Roisin had snorted, prodded her under the ribs and told her she wasn’t accepting that as an answer, that they weren’t having a girl’s night for Lily to fob her off with a vague ‘just kissing’. So she’d conceded to giving her a full report: yes, James Potter was a good kisser; that she had effectively seen him shirtless in that all of his shirt buttons were undone, but they’d never specifically got as far as actually removing it from his shoulders, with the same true in reverse; yes, he had Quidditch muscles and, yes, they were really quite nice; yes, James Potter displayed the same fascination with breasts that she’d experienced from every other man who’d gotten close enough to display said fascination, and at this stage probably knew them better than she did herself; no, there’d been no venturing below the belt, although Lily had some greater awareness of that area than she had before they’d started making out in such close proximity; no, they hadn’t had many actual conversations about sex, other than to establish that James never had — which was entirely unsurprising given she’s the only person he’s pursued from fourteen onwards — and that she hadn’t either, although had gotten decidedly closer: and no, she had no particular idea of when anything further might happen, just that they’d been edging forward across those sorts of boundaries with growing boldness. It’s an entirely inappropriate thought that drops into her head that, now, that Roisin should’ve waited a few more days before grilling her if she wanted a more interesting report.

He’s waiting for her go-ahead, the question built into the look he’s leveling at her. She manages to articulate the yes that she might, possibly, be on fire with, because — shit, James, and then he’s --- then his hand slips into her underwear and she crushes a kiss into his mouth and he breathes Lily, and time goes a little wonky after that.

*

They miss dinner entirely and end up sneaking into the kitchens to eat.

James is James so he makes her laugh by charming all the house elves, then making a show of pulling out her chair at the end of the table where they settle themselves. She’s almost pleased about the presence of several dozen house elves busying about, because it diffuses the intensity of all of it, pushing them back into retaining some physical distance. She’s slightly stripped raw, this big balloon of something in her chest which has them both sneaking shy, reticent looks at each other over the end of the table, smiling. She feels slightly giddy. Gushy in a way that she’s never felt in her entire life and the existence of such affection stirring in her gut has her slightly wrong-footed, a bit awkward. And then there’s also the other thing, which feels like it’s biting at her ankles again now she’s no longer wrapped up in the cocoon of the Prefect’s bathroom, with his mouth on hers, his honesty spilling into the room. It’s quite dizzying to be --- falling for someone in a way that she hasn’t ever before -- and also have this. This wall.

She remembers, once, Remus Lupin telling her he wanted his-and-Sirius’s relationship to have nothing to do with James and Peter, just for a little while. She’s never understood it more. This exact second, she’d like James to be her own private island, to cut away the rest of it and just focus on this thing that they’re building, but… but, a fundamental core part of why she likes James is his fierce, all-consuming love of his friends.

And ---- she really does believe that, if there was nothing else to consider, that he wouldn’t hold anything back that would hurt her feelings. She honestly doesn’t think he would be lying to her if there weren’t other factors, which leaves her stuck in this no man’s land of not knowing how she’s supposed to feel: if she should be demanding that she should be put first --- which seems absurd, given she doesn’t really know what she’s asking for, and they’ve been dating for three months compared to nearly seven years of history --- or if she should be stepping back and being respectful of all over it, or finding some middle path. James had never said he’d tell her the truth about everything. When they were just friends, he’d basically said that some secrecy was part of the package. She’d known that there was something before they’d started dating, so she’s not really sure how reasonable it is to suddenly tip over into not being okay with it now when she’d decided that she could live with it. She had been sure that they were doing it for some good enough reason that she could accept, but she’s not sure how to get back to that. It’s her pride butting against her curiosity, her unease and her feelings, and she doesn’t like it.

“James,” Lily says, looking up at him over his plate of chicken and potatoes. ‘I’ve been trying to figure out --- how to live with it.”

James catches her gaze, stills.

“Stalemate,” James says, flicking over her face.

“I don’t --- want it to be like that,” Lily says, “It’s just ---- It isn’t very nice, James. I know … I appreciate your intent isn’t bad, but it feels like…a rejection, of me. And. I know you talked your way around it, but you said, basically ---- that it isn’t your call.”

James swallows, his jaw squaring.

“James.” Lily says, “I’ve always --- appreciated how much you’d do for your friends.”

“I don’t really know what to do,” James says, and she believes that. His voice is the kind of the low and vulnerable that leaves little room for doubt. The unsureness is back. She can fully imagine that James Potter’s worst nightmare is working out how to juggle the needs of the people that he cares about most. How much he hate feeling torn. She gets no pleasure for pushing him into it.

“I know,” Lily says, some of the frustration slipping into her voice. “I know.”

“I can’t,” James begins, and he cuts himself off, sighs. “I didn’t think it would be so difficult to --- keep everyone happy.”

“That’s because you trust people implicitly. Not everyone can.”

“I don’t think its ---”

“James,” Lily interrupts, “Look. I’m not going to ask you which of them doesn’t want me to know. I know that you’re --- protecting them. I do understand that, and I --- I’m not sure that it would helpful to have confirmation, to be honest, but I… I think I know anyway.” James’s gaze is very serious as he looks at her. It doesn’t give anything away, but then she doesn’t expect him to. It’s difficult to say whose feelings he’s trying to protect: whether it’s hers, or the someone who doesn’t want her in on this final piece of the jigsaw. Both, probably. “And you can see why that would --- upset me.”

“Yeah.” James says, “I get it, but it’s ---”

“Yes, I understand, there are reasons, it’s complicated,” Lily repeats, and there’s some bitterness in her voice. “But the thing is ---- that isn’t your fault. I do know that, James, and the last thing I want is to … cause you issues with your friends.”

“It’s not like that.”

“But it feels like it could be,” Lily says, “And I --- I’d hate that.”

“That’s mutual, you know,” James says, “I’m not the only one that --- ”

“I don’t think I want to hear it,” Lily says, sighing. She looks down at the flat wood of the table. She skewers another potato onto her fork. “You’re trying to protect them. Me.”

James nods.

“But you have --- lied to me,” Lily says, “And I --- I suppose I realised I can either… just get over it. Or I can --- fall back into my habit of trying to protect myself. Put a limit on this. A block. How far I can be in it when it’s still like this.” Lily carries on, “That’s what I was thinking about, James. Not --- breaking up with you. Just… trying to stop myself from getting further in. Deeper.”

“Okay.”

“If I’m honest,” Lily says, “That’s closer to where I’d settled but… clearly I’m ---- I overestimated my resolve. Given — well. That’s part of what I meant by ‘I don’t know’, why it came out like that.”

“I don’t like that.” James says.

“Well, I don’t either, really.” Lily says. “I assumed, eventually --- the circumstances would change.”

“I’d --- yeah,” James says. He nods, but there’s a lack of confidence behind it. Her stomach twists.

“Perhaps when the outwork of my ‘volatility’ isn’t potentially running to a teacher.” Lily says, raising an eyebrow at him. James' expression shifts into something slightly sheepish. He drops his voice, lower, conspiratorially.

“Really thought you’d bite my head off more for that comment,” James says, “Told Padfoot what I said and he wanted to check I still had all my appendages."

“Well, you can tell him that’s covered,” Lily says, primly. James grins in a way that shows all his teeth, wide and full of mirth. Appreciative. “We ended up having dinner, after all.”

“The kitchens weren't entirely what I had in mind,” James says, “But I guess we did. We still could --- tomorrow?”

“No,” Lily says, and knocks their feet together under the table in an attempt to reiterate that it isn’t meant to communicate anything more than just not wanting dinner. “I’ll feel better after Tuesday, when it doesn’t feel like it’s looming over me.”

James scans her face again. Offers a small nod.

“And then I have until next month to work out how to get over it.” Lily says. James glances down at his potatoes, revealing absolutely nothing. The lack of rebuttal is confirmation enough, if she actually needed one. “Just --- no more lies, James. Just say you can’t tell me.”

“Alright. Okay. No more lies. ” James nods, “It’s a shame, though, I thought of a much better one than that stuff about your birthday. About Sirius needing some embarrassing medical tests.”

“And that’s better, how?”

“Well, it sets me up to fail less, for a start, and Sirius is the one that looks like a prat which I’m always pro.” James says, “And it doesn’t invite further questions.”

“Why would that need to happen on a Tuesday night?”

“Hiding it from Moony, see.”

“Sirius is shameless,” Lily says, “He’d regale the story in lengthy, uncomfortable detail to try and transfer the discomfort onto someone else.”

“You might have a point,” James nods, and tilts his head. “What if Peter had the medical issue? And -- wait, he confided in me, and Sirius happened to walk in on it which is why the two of us know about it, but not Moony.”

“Closer,” Lily says, “Except for the fact that --- we have a hospital wing. Your hook about hiding something from Remus is good, but you’d be better going for something he’d disapprove of.”

“Yes,” James says, “That’s it. We’re getting there. Although --- the thing is, Moony tends to only wear his disapproval as a bit of a show. There’s very little he’d actually chew us out for. Especially our Sirius. Got a bit of soft sport for him, I reckon.”

“You need to remember your audience,” Lily says, “You’re only trying to convince me that Remus would disapprove of it. It doesn’t matter what he actually thinks.”

“Well, you’d need to disapprove of it too, or you might want to come,” James says, “I’ll work on it, come back to you.”

Lily smiles down at her plate of food, feeling stupidly affectionate.

“How you’ve ever gotten away with anything I’ll never understand.” Lily says, fond.

“Good luck and a bit of charm, Lily,” James says, brightly.

*

By the morning, the weather’s turned sufficiently to allow for the snow to be enjoyed and talk of a snow ball fight has blossomed into an actual plan long before she’s cognizant enough to form an objection. She’s not sure she really wants to, anyway, because James is childlike with delight over it, laughing and loud, seeming in his element as he and Sirius discuss it, and Lily is loath to do anything that puts a dent on his joy. She’d been awake for half the night thinking about the two of them in the Prefect’s bathroom, feeling slightly sick with the depth of her own feeling, recapping James’ almost-reticent admissions of feeling, running over all of it on repeat in an attempt to commit it all to memory. She feels, horrifyingly, quite stupendously heart-sick. Last time she’d met Alice -- over the Christmas holidays --- Alice had looked at her, her chin propped up with her elbow, and said ‘you’re quite smitten’. At the time, Lily had flicked her hair over her shoulder and resolutely declared that she was not, but this morning she’d find it harder to refute. She might just be quite, quite taken with James Potter.

They’re all in various states of readiness and eagerness so the agreement is to meet outside when they’re ready. When she’s finally dug out enough layers to wrap herself in, she heads out and crosses the grounds. She stalls when she finds Remus hanging around by a tree, cigarette in hand. James and Sirius are twenty feet away at the foot of the lake. Remus is watching them, cigarette in hand, a complex expression on his face.

“Remus?” Lily asks, shoving her hands in her pockets. His gaze slides to her for a moment, then back to the pair of them. They haven’t spoken much this week. She’d ended up not crossing paths with them last night. They’d been gone by the time they’d made it back to the common room, having spent quite a long time kissing in the alcove on the Gryffindor landing before they’d unstuck themselves and actually crossed through the portrait hole when it was already bordering on late. He’d said the others were probably still up in the dorm if she wanted to come up, but she hadn’t had the emotional bandwidth for it.

“They’re having a heart to heart.” Remus supplies.

“Remus,” Lily asks, watching as he smokes, gaze fixed on James and Sirius. The latter currently has him in a headlock, and is attempting to shove a snowball down the back of his robes. It’s certainly not how she’s ever conducted a heart to heart, but she’s come to accept that men are strange and is happy to take Remus’ word that this is what it looks like. As she watches, James manages to wriggle out of his hold, tripping him up so he ends up flat out on the snow. She’s far enough away that she can’t actually hear Sirius laughing, but she can see it in the way he throws his head back. He attempts to knock James’ ankle out from under him, misses, but James flops onto the ground next to him anyway, grins. “Are you and Sirius in the middle of a row?”

Remus side-eyes her for a moment, then sighs, which is all the confirmation she needs. They’d been subtle about it, but there’s been something off about them since everything about the moon had come up in conversation. Sirius has been happier to be drawn into conversation with someone else, seemed to have turned off his hyper-awareness of Remus’ being, and had instituted this greater distance. Remus had been doing a very good impression of not noticing. Her biggest clue had been that both James and Peter had gone along with his pretense of not noticing, too, and no one had teased them for days. Lily had been quiet and in her head, too, which made for a much shifted dynamic. She didn’t like it much.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Lily says.

“Seems like it’s going around.” Remus says, and there’s an underlining of something in his words that makes her even more sure about the conclusion she hadn’t really been trying to reach. In a lot of ways, she doesn’t want to know, but curiosity has been gnawing at her. She can’t stop her brain from hypothesising.

“Did you at least get to enjoy your alone time on Tuesday?”

Remus huffs, takes another drag of his cigarette.

“Should’ve taken the patrol,” Remus says, “Would’ve been infinitely more enjoyable.”

Lily sighs. She’s about to try and launch into --- something, although she’s not sure what, when Peter emerges behind them. He's as eager as the other two had been and is already moulding a snowball in his hands. He darts past them, running, and throws it at the back of James’ head.

“Oi!” James yells, rolling over, scrambling to his feet. He’s just gotten up when Sirius trips him up again, and Sirius is already scooping up more snow, heading their way.

“Well,” Remus says, dry. He stubs out his cigarette. “That’s our cue.”

*

As ever, despite limited enthusiasm at the initial concept, she ends up having a lot of fun. Their commitment to the overblown and the ridiculous manages to take up all the rest of the space, and she’s soon laughing at Peter’s magic-snowball combination, running to escape one of James’ killer-throws, devising great satisfaction from hitting Sirius in the back of the head with a particularly large snowball, until she can barely remember quite what she’s upset about. Of course, eventually the cold seeps under her skin and she’s caught between feeling tired and being unwilling to give up the magic of being to act like a kid, a few spells keeping the worst of it at bay.

Remus is the first to tap out. His statement that he’s done, too cold, seems to come out a bit hard and clipped, which from Remus feels almost aggressive. He’d never fully thrown himself in, his own laughter feeling muted, slightly forced. Sirius offers a barked ‘fine’ and then carries on their new project of making a Snow-Dementor which, for reasons Lily isn’t entirely sure of, he seems to be making snow-breasts for. There’s something dismissive and pointed in the way he doesn’t look up at him.

“Mate,” James says, and shoves Sirius in the arm. There’s more force to it than normal, a pointedless. Sirius makes a noise of discontent and shoves him back. Scoops up another ball of snow and shoves it in his hair. “Padfoot.”

“Fuck off.” Sirius mutters back.

“Three nights out.”

“Piss off.” Sirius says, but he sighs, looks towards Remus’ retreating back for a moment. She can see the decision making process in his grey gaze. After a moment, he pockets his hands and looks back at them with limited enthusiasm. “I suppose I’ll see you later.”

“We probably won’t be out much longer,” James says.

“Whatever.” Sirius says, clipped.

Lily watches as Sirius trudges after him. Halfway back to the castle he breaks into a run and catches up with him just before the big oak doors. Sirius throws an arm around his shoulders. From the distance, she can’t see if Remus sways into it, just that they’re shoulder to shoulder as they head back into the castle. She’s not sure she’ll ever really understand their relationship given there’s so much of it that’s unsaid, but she hopes —- what she really, really hopes is that none of it is to do with her.

They give it up half an hour later, when even the warming spells they’d cast can’t quite stop her fingers from feeling numb in her gloves. Pete takes a diversion to the kitchen on the pretense of snacks, which leaves the two of them walking up to the Common Room.

And —- she feels very aware of James. His broad shoulders, his height, that scent of his shampoo, the vulnerability underneath the James that tries to make everyone happy.

At various points in the day, what Lily had wanted was for all of them to fuck off so could be alone with James Potter. The intensity of the desire has taken her slightly by surprise, but there was something in yesterday that tripped her down a few steps and forced her to face the reality of how much she likes him. Quite how much likes existing in her own skin when he’s kissing her. Exactly how much she wants him. There’s plenty of her feelings that she still can’t name, but she’s certainly, at this precise moment, very much in lust with him. She’s never really experienced that before —- most crushes revealing themselves to be quite… not disappointing as such, but certainly not as interesting or all-consuming in reality as these been in her head — and she can’t really explain it now: he’s just offering up a monologue recap of their snow fight, his hair stuck to his skin from the snow, cheeks pink from the cold. He’s not doing anything particularly attractive, or charming, and she cannot stop thinking about his hands. It is not helpful. She has a lot of other emotions to attend to. She’s not really sure she ever fully dissected why she’d been so horrified by his assumption that she might break up with him, that she needs to think more about her lack of communicating her actual feelings, but mostly, she is thinking that yesterday had been very good.

“James.” She says, impatient, almost irritated. She stops at the top of the flight of stairs up to the third floor. He pauses, looks at her. James Potter. She’d stripped off her wet gloves and shoved them in the pocket of her robes, but her hands are still cold as she reaches out , tugs him very close, and kisses him with purpose.

“Oh,” James says, assessing her owlishly. “Right.”

They take quite a long deviation to the passage behind the one-eyed-witch.

*

The next day, the snow’s still thick on the ground and there’s a lot of buzz about an all Gryffindor snow ball fight, which is entirely Sirius’ fault.

Specifically the fault of his overblown coping mechanisms, given he’d architected the whole thing in a feverish attempt to pretend not to care about his domestic issues. By the time they (eventually) reached the Gryffindor tower yesterday, Sirius had been moodily positioned in front of the fire with Remus nowhere to be seen. James had sighed, separated himself to go over to him, and they’d had a low conversation she couldn’t hear that had Sirius clearly agitated. Prickly. By the time Lily had returned after showering to fully warm up and put on some dry clothes, James had been gone (to talk to Remus, presumably) and Sirius had transformed back into the life-and-soul of the party — albeit a party that wasn’t actually happening — and had been charming Cassie, Alex and Mary into committing to join this conceptual snow ball fight. They’d agreed, Alex assessing him intently enough that Lily was quite sure she was developing some ideas. Sirius' ability to put on his easy-magnetism was always impressive, and she’d been sure there was enough actual flirting in the exchange that she nearly strode straight over and flicked him in the back of the head for being an idiot, but she’d felt too unsure about whether any of this was, indirectly, because of her. Instead she’d sat with Peter and his stock of snacks, watching with a mixture of concern and begrudging admiration as he systematically got every single person to commit to it with a mixture of sales-technique, charm and low-level peer-pressure. By breakfast the next morning, he’d managed to collar every Gryffindor from fourth year and above to agree and sign themselves up to a team, claiming the youngsters would just fall in line and show up (which she suspected he was probably right about) and thus claiming it as a full house.

Lily’s quite sure she can’t be bothered, but she’d been assigned a team (the ‘reds’) without discussion, and there’s an edge to all of it that suggested disagreeing could be explosive. She’d rather have dragged Remus off to attempt to have a heart to heart about what had triggered the escalation in their disagreement by a warm fire (which she’s sure he’d dodge), but Remus had accepted his fate — also on the red team — without complaint. If anything, there was a steely edge to him that absolutely refused to back down from the challenge. She’s rarely seen them in the middle of a conflict before and it’s slightly exhausting and entirely confusing.

She dawdles at breakfast where everyone’s in high spirits, then realises she’d shoved her gloves, hat and scarf into her robe pocket without drying any of them —- distracted as she’d been, at the time, from having just had James all over her — and then they’re so sodden that they still smell and feel damp after her spell work. She sends the rest of her dorm mates on ahead as she digs around trying to find something else to wear that might actually keep her warm.

When she eventually emerges, James is waiting for her at the foot of the stairs.

“Mary said you were having scarf troubles,” James says, holding up a second Gryffindor scarf and offering it to her.

“Thank you,” Lily says, and kisses him. “I really can’t be bothered with this, James.”

“No,” James agrees. He’s got a streak of gold painted above his eyebrow because, of course, he and Sirius are both on ‘team gold’. She’s just thankful she’s avoided face paint so far.

“It’s really quite stupid.”

“Well,” James says, offering up a shrug that’s somewhere between sad and bemused. “That’s Sirius.”

She hadn’t stepped back after she’d kissed him hello. He’s rubbing a thumb over her knuckles, standing close.

She hadn’t ended up seeing him much last night. By the time he’d eventually shown up with Remus, they’d been a parade of Gryffindors buzzing with excitement about the big snow ball fight, so they’d sat close together but never managed an actual, proper conversation. Sirius had still been all big-desperate-laughs when Lily had taken herself off to bed, leaving James to supervise the rest of whatever this particular breakdown was.

“Do you think…” James begins, then trails off. His fingertips still on the back of her hand. He’s looking at them intently, then his gaze slides up to meet hers. “Everyone else has already headed out.”

“How long would it be before he noticed?” Lily asks.

“With the whole Gryffindor house to dazzle? At least —- twenty minutes, I reckon. Maybe even thirty.”

“Well then,” Lily says, and heads up the boy's staircase, tugging James behind her.

*

By Sunday evening, the existence of homework comes into their collective consciousness, which is a reality check she could’ve lived without. Sirius is the only one who rarely bothers at all, although she’d describe Peter and James’ efforts as significantly below their actual capabilities, a mix of poor forward planning and a bit of actual laziness. Remus does generally actually try — granted not as much as Lily — but this weekend they’ve both been distracted enough by snow and everything else that she doesn’t think either of them have started any of it. Lily, at least, ducked out of the Great Gryffindor Snow Battle —- as it had since been dubbed —- early by losing all of her seven lives (she does have to hand it to the idiots, that their ability to turn anything into a complex game is legendary), and had a few extra hours before dinner, which means she’s in a slightly better position.

“Slughorn is mental,” James says, as he assesses his roll of parchment and his increasingly large handwriting. He pinches his forehead. “Twelve inches.”

“He’s been on about the uses of dragon liver for weeks, if you’d listened.” Sirius says, irritable, and actually surprisingly doing his homework. He’d been in a very good mood for most of the day, high off the triumph of the organisation of and victory in the Great Gryffindor Snow Battle, which had plummeted quite dramatically as the evening progressed. The cause of that was entirely transparent, given Remus had limped back from the ground looking like he’d actually been at war, grey and grim, and had looked progressively worse as the evening went on. He was projecting very purposefully that it wasn’t to be discussed, and Sirius clearly hated it.

“You spent the whole lesson rabbiting on about that new Bowie record, I couldn’t concentrate on anything else.” James says.

“Nothing to do with mooning over the back of Lily’s head.”

“Since when do you listen, anyway, Padfoot?”

“Pass it here,” Lily says, taking the parchment from him.

“Lily, you beauty.”

“I’m not doing it for you,” She says, “I’m just giving you notes to stop you bickering like a married couple.”

“Might’ve been an idea to do some of this earlier,” James says, thoughtfully.

“Yes,” Lily says, pointedly. “It might.”

“I think you might have had that thought before, Prongs.” Remus says. “Every Sunday night for most of our lives, if my memory serves.”

“First snow of the year though,” Peter says.

“Exactly, Pete,” James says. “Be rude not to make a point of it.”

“It better piss off now,” Sirius says, dark, “Bloody inconvenient.”

“Great weekend though,” James says, slightly wistful. He’d quickly gotten into the ridiculousness of Sirius brigade, appointed himself a commander over Team Gold and had been debating strategies and sacrificing first years to the snow by the time Lily had stopped trying. She’d enjoyed hearing them relay their antics, even if she was pleased she’d removed herself from them. She can objectively see that it was fun and quite an impressive feet of House Unity, even if was also embroiled in some unfathomable relationship-point scoring and a side order of desperation. She had enjoyed herself until she'd started getting too cold for it.

“Even without your Quidditch boot camp.” Remus says.

“Well, I think Prongs found alternative ways to occupy his time.” Sirius says, which at least answers one question about whether James had relayed anything that had transpired in the Prefects bathroom to any of them. She’d assumed he would, and she’d’ve expected Sirius to comment on it at some point, she’d just hoped he’d give them slightly more time before dragging it into conversation. She feels James stiffen beside her, sending him a look. An awkwardness descends over Remus and Peter as they wait for her to react to it, but Sirius is obviously immune to it, especially when he’s like this.

“Sirius,” Lily says, adding another note to James’ parchment. “Shut up.” Sirius cocks his head in acknowledgment. There’s an implicit fair enough in his eyes , but he doesn’t say it out loud. “There,” Lily says, passing James his parchment. “The rest of what you need’s on page seventy eight of the text book.”

“We’re going to be here all night.” James sighs, digging a thumb into his forehead. “Next time, next time.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“That —- is very reasonable,” James says, as he picks up his quill.

They work in silence for a little while, before Sirius finally cracks.

“Remus,” Sirius says, “For Godrick’s sake, go to bed, you look dreadful.”

He’s right. He looks like he should’ve spent most of the day in bed, not running around the grounds building forts and lobbing snow balls at people’s heads. He’d done it anyway, stubbornly rising to Sirius’ stupid game with a level of passive aggression she’d found almost impressive. She’s never seen them like this before, and James’ words about their pre-relationship posturing and pinning have never felt quite so real.

Remus doesn’t set down his quill.

“And whose fault is that?” Remus asks, perfectly steady, to his parchment.

“I thought you’d let yourself get taken out like Evans,” Sirius says, pointedly. “Offer yourself up as bait and then go and rest. I didn’t think you’d pull some —- idiotic martyr act and actually try and win just to prove a point, like a complete bloody moron. It’s hardly worth it, is it?”

“It seemed important to you at the time.”

“ Moony,” Sirius complains, “Stop being a stubborn git.”

“Homework, Pads.”

“You know I’ll do your bloody homework,” Sirius mutters.

“Wouldn’t want to impose.” Remus says, mildly. There’s a few pointed glances, then Sirius stands up. “That’s it.” Sirius says, and then starts gathering his things, shoving them in his bag.

“Sirius — ” Remus complains, finally looking up as Sirius snatches his parchment away.

“If you’re not going to look after yourself —-”

“Padfoot —- ”

“No, I’m —- done with this whole, fucking —-” Sirius carries on, and then he’s picking him up off the sofa, bridal-style — which is no mean feat, given Remus is not a small man — and then he fixes him with a pointed look. “No more bloody arguments.” Sirius bites out.

“Thats not really how it works.”

“Fine,” Sirius says, “You can tell me how it works, once you’ve accepted some sodding help, for once in your bloody life.” They’ve attracted some attention now because, as loud and ridiculous as they are, it’s still unusual to watch someone bodily start to carry someone towards the stairs. “Wounded during his defeat in the Great Gryffindor Snow battle,” Sirius declares, loudly and loftily to the room. Then, quieter, “I’m fed up of your stupid, stubborn tragic act, Lupin, so will you just… ”

She loses the rest of the sentence to the noise of the Gryffindor Common Room, as Sirius trudges them towards the stairs.

“He’s strong,” Lily says, assessing his retreating back.

“Mhm,” James agrees, “Would’ve been a great Beater, if he wasn’t so determined to disappoint his parents. Well, thank Merlin that’s over.”

“Is it?” Lily asks, turning to look at him, because she’s not really altogether sure what she’s just witnessed. There are too many holes, too many questions for her to claim she really understands any of it. James’s gaze shifts from Sirius’ back, across to Peter.

“What do you reckon?”

“Yeah,” Peter nods, “Over. They’ll be fine in the morning.”

“Finally.” James says, with feelings. He reaches for Remus’ bag, starts digging through it. “What have we got then? Can you take the rest of this charm’s essay, Wormtail?” Peter nods, accepting the parchment James passes over. James adds Remus’ transfiguration notes onto his stack of textbooks. He notices Lily’s questioning look. “Sirius’ll be up all night if he tries doing all this, and I prefer him when he’s slept. Much less likely to bite your head off.” James says, as he assesses all of Remus’ books and rolls of parchment. “Ah, bugger. Moony’s normally more organised than this.”

“Distracted.” Peter says.

“Haven’t we all been,” James mutters, and then, to Lily, lower, “He hates getting behind and he’ll --- well, January moons are brutal. Defence is done. Padfoot will have to take Runes ah, Airthmancy…”

“Here,” Lily says, holding out her hand for it. “I’ve already done mine.”

“Thanks, Lily,” James says, warmly.

She sets her Transfiguration homework aside, starts pulling out her Arithmancy notes and riffling through them.

“What was all of it about in the first place?” Lily asks. James’ forehead creases. Peter glances up at him, waiting for him to make the decision of what to say, which speaks to a number of her suspicions. She watches to see what he decides, whether he’ll dodge the question. He’d agreed to her proposition of no more lies.

“Related to that which we can’t talk about, to an extent.” James says, “Who ever knows with those two. Half the time I think they’re arguing about the argument more than anything else, but --- yeah, it started with that.”

She’s glad that he’s told the truth.

The truth itself sours in her gut, upturns a fresh peel of guilt, frustration, rejection. Almost definitely Remus then. Remus, her first connection with all of them, the reason she ever gave the others a chance. She’s known that, really, because all of it, always, seemed to centre around Remus Lupin. She hates the idea, given how readily she’s trusted him for years. How easy it is to believe that he doesn’t trust her back.

James had been deliberately trying not to reveal that information. Protecting both of them. There’s no real reason why that should feel like the final piece of the jigsaw ---- because, of course, it could be Sirius that’s on the other side of the issue, but somehow that doesn’t fit right in her head… she just really can’t see Sirius denying James anything on the basis of an analysis of risk --- but she keeps all of her reaction off her face for James’ sake. He’s been trying not to upset anyone. He’d only done what she’d asked.

And, somehow, she’s caused a wedge between a number of people she cares about most.

And --- he really had looked dreadful.

Lily sighs, picks up her quill, and starts steadily working her way through Remus’ Arithmancy homework.

*

“James,” Lily calls, as they spill out of their last period Defence Against the Dark Arts class on Tuesday. Remus is already gone. The sky had already started to dim as the lessons drew on, the light seeping away from the day. The three of them had looked awfully anxious to leave, jumping to their feet the second the lesson was over. James pauses, turning on his heel. Sirius looks incredibly impatient about the delay, looking a lot like he’s expending a lot of effort not to give into the urge to grab a handful of James’ robes and drag him down the corridor. “Just be careful as you can be, will you? Whatever stupid thing you’re doing.”

James grins, offers her a salute, jogs backwards down the corridor for a dozen paces, before Sirius slaps him on the upside of his head. He turns around and then three of them disappear.

Chapter Text

The fact is, Remus Lupin has never really allowed her to know what being a werewolf actually means.

They’ve barely spoken about it. That had partially been just how it happened, with Lily knowing she’d discovered that information a long time before she he envisioned he’d ever be comfortable speaking to her about it, and then when it had come out it hadn’t exactly been the right moment to talk about it --- given they’d been high in Shrieking Shack, on one of the first times she’d ever hung out with Sirius -- and that had set them on a course where they never really spoke about it. He’d occasionally offer up some small tidbits of information, but more consistently he skimmed over it, only referencing it when he absolutely had to. She’d been dimly aware of that, but she’s not quite sure she’s fully conceptualised the depths of it until this last week.

James had made some offhand command about Remus usually being more organised around the moon and January moons being brutal that had told her more information that Remus had willingly revealed in years. James probably didn’t even realise he’d done it. It is, now she thinks about it, completely obvious that Remus would structure all his homework habits around the moon --- she had known that, actually, from the incident about their group project way back in Second year --- and it’s wholly, entirely logical that the full moons nearest the winter solstice would be the hardest, but it had never really sunk in. It’s the casual way James had said ‘three nights out’, the way the three of them seem to know how to anticipate his needs, and the way Lily does not.

There’s probably a fair amount of that that’s her fault.

She should have asked. It’s difficult to get Remus to talk about himself at the best of times, but she can’t really claim that she’s tried that hard to get him to talk about this. Now that she’s really thinking about it, there are a lot of glaring omissions in her knowledge: she has no idea how it happened, when it happened, how long the others have known, how that impacted his view of himself. She knows him well enough to guess at the latter, but she’d never heard it in his words. She’d never invited him to share it. She certainly had paid attention, but… she’s also aware that she’s only seen the parts he hadn’t been able to hide. She’s heard him speak once about the political ramifications of being a werewolf, and he’d turned hard and harsh enough that she’d not bought it up again. She’d certainly had her eyes open to it, so she’s quite sure she could tell you the last half a dozen pieces of legislation that had been passed, but she’d never had an actual conversation with Remus. Whenever she’d tried to be more overt in her sympathy on those mornings after reading the Prophet, he’d display such willful ignorance to what she was doing that it had seemed best to drop it. So she’d continued with his facade of, most of the time, pretending it wasn’t happening. She’d followed his lead, convincing herself it was for the best to respect his boundaries, but something in Sirius accusations at him has her reconsidering: if your not going to look after yourself… ; fed up of your stupid, stubborn tragic act Lupin; once you’ve accepted some help, for once in your bloody life.

Perhaps, Remus Lupin’s boundaries are a load of bollocks.

She’s never gone to see him in the Hospital Wing. She’d been sure he didn’t want her there, and much of the time it had seemed that would only serve to draw further attention to it, but this morning she has the holy grail of a free period immediately after breakfast, and she realises as she’s drinking her morning coffee with Mary and Cassie that there’s nowhere else she wants to be. She feels quite abruptly passionately about it, so damn Remus’ endless need for sodding privacy, she wants to see him, check that he’s okay, and so she is going to bloody well do it unless he explicitly, actually tells her to piss off in real words.

First, she has to get past Madam Pomfrey.

She’s expecting her request to see him to go better, given that they’d developed quite a good relationship after her regular visits about her scars. At some point, someone had told her about Lily’s desire to become a Healer --- James, probably --- and she’d taken to narrating the specifics of what she was doing, the two of them discussing the mechanics of healing magic as she worked. It turns out that relationship doesn’t overtake her protectiveness over patients in her care, particularly Remus Lupin, whom she suspects she’s very fond.

“I’m his friend, Madam Pomfrey,” Lily says, “But if he isn’t up for visitors then I’ll----”

“Lily?” Remus' voice asks, from beyond the set of curtains at the far end of the ward. His voice is scraped raw, voice weak. They’ve been at the conversation for long enough that he was either asleep, or deciding whether or not to let Pomfrey chuck her out. “Give me a minute.”

“Remus,” Pomfrey says, her voice taut with complaint. She gives Lily a sharp look, then disappears behind the curtain. She hears them have a low, whispered discussion. The only part she hears is Remus saying ‘you worry too much, Poppy’ and then Madam Pomfrey pulls back the curtain just enough for her to slip through. She conjures her a chair for Lily, then leaves with a tsk of disapproval.

“Hello, Lily.”

He looks awful. She can’t really think past that for a moment, as she heavily sits down on the chair and makes her best effort not to look too affected by it. She’s seen him looking grim and wretched after the moons at various times throughout the years, but she’s never fully considered that she’s still only ever seen him after Pomfrey’s ministrations. He’s clearly exhausted, slightly sweaty, and pale. Completely drained of colour and strength.

“Morning, Remus, I bought you some chocolate,” Lily says. It’s a weak offering, but Remus smiles indulgently. It looks like it requires a lot of effort. “Muggle. I know Honeydukes is ——- well, magical, but sometimes I just fancy a bar of Cadburys, and given James keeps nicking yours to give it to me I think I’m in debt.”

“Strictly speaking,” Remus says, still in that horrible, rough voice, “Think James bought most of it for me in the first place.”

“Oh?”

“Mhmm,” Remus says, trying to sit up a bit more. “He instituted a system of --- apology chocolate back in the third year. There was an ... incident in which my homework ended up in Moaning Myrtles' toilet.”

“Yes, that sounds entirely like the sort of thing that would happen.” Lily says, dry.

“Most of the time I don’t even know what he’s apologising for, now. He just --- tops it up if he thinks they’ve buggered up.”

“Right,” Lily says, because that sounds like James, and it also sounds entirely like James to do it whenever the awareness that not everyone can afford to indulgently buy Honeydukes finest strikes him on the guise of an apology, too. She suspects Remus knows that as well as she does.

“Regardless, I am a big fan of Dairy Milk.”

“Thank God,” Lily says, “I’ve been spending far too much time with Purebloods, Remus. Any minute now, I’ll start thinking ‘Uvirnas’ is a nice boy’s name.”

“Horologium,” Remus suggests. “Vulpecula?”

“Oh my god,” Lily says, and pinches her brow. “Wizards.”

“Sirius once told us they’d considered calling him Reticulum.”

“Well, that’s it,” Lily says, “I'll calling him Rectum Orion Black for the rest of his life.”

Remus smiles. It pulls at the corner of his mouth, brings a little more life back into his features.

“He’ll be honoured,” Remus says, “A nickname is the pinnacle of all affection, afterall.”

“You’re just telling yourself that to soften the blow that they accidentally named you after the act of exposing your buttocks.”

That wins her a laugh, which seems like it causes him a great deal of pain.

“Actually, that was on purpose,”

“Of course it was,” Lily says, with a pointed sigh. “Derranged idiots. Are you feeling alright?”

“Oh yes,” Remus says, with a small nod and a smile. “Tremendous.”

“At least you’ll be getting out of Hebology,” Lily says, “We’ll all freeze our extremities off in this.”

“Small mercies.” Remus agrees. He moves, winces. Lily feels her smile congeal on her face. She isn’t James, who can maintain a cheerful, winning persona in the face of anything. Lily, on the other hand, finds it much harder to hide her emotions. How struck she is by how clearly unwell he is.

“Remus, where’s Sirius?” She asks, twisting closer. The three of them all have the same free period, not that she’d ever seen the two of them during it. Sirius had made his sentiments about a mutual first-thing free period every Wednesday very clear. Generally, the result was that neither would be seen until their second-period Charms class, to which they were almost guaranteed to be late, and arrive having not consumed any breakfast. Sirius would start complaining about being hungry and decaffeinated less than ten minutes into the class, then would sneak off to source food, coffee and to have a cigarette before Herbology, thus having the knock on effect of being late to that too. She’d assumed, this morning, he’d be here. “I thought you’d finished fighting. He should be here.”

“He was,” Remus says, “Been and gone. Sent him to get some sleep.”

“Right,” Lily says. That doesn’t make much sense, given she’d come immediately after eating a rushed breakfast on her own. The sun was only just rising. He can’t have been here long. She can’t imagine Sirius willingly leaving him like this in the name of sleep, but there’s plenty she doesn’t understand. She hadn’t intended to poke at the edges of it exactly: this feels like enough of an over-step for one morning. “Why aren’t you asleep? You look like you need it.”

“Poppy,” Remus says, “There’s —- a potions regime. She likes to —— ensure they’re working first.”

Lily nods, her gaze skimming over him. And —-

What is he going to do after Hogwarts? It’s bad enough here, where he has a Healer sworn to secrecy on tap, but he can’t —- he can’t exactly go to St Mungos. What is he supposed to do when he doesn’t have a shack to lock himself in? How is he supposed to manage?

She feels abruptly sick with worry. Appalled by it. Quite thoroughly torn apart over it, but she ---

Is entirely powerless and entirely aware of how much Remus would hate that. It won’t be new information for him. She’s the one who’s only just catching up.

“Would you like to hear the headlines?” Lily asks, pulling out her copy of the Prophet.

“I suspect not,” Remus says, “If the news is anything like it was yesterday, but go on.”

“No murder this morning,” Lily says, unravelling it and assessing it, “Crouch has been promoted --- gave a rather terse speech on getting tough about Death Eaters, which --- yes, seems to be a lot of hot air and the slow degradation of the right to a fair trial… but he assures us that, any day now, it’ll work. Still no arrests for that grisly attack in Slough.”

“That was the one with no mark, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Lily says, “Someone’s tried to suggest that’s because it was committed by the muggle sympathisers. That they’re just as bad.”

“Of course,” Remus says, nods. “Naturally.”

“Remus,” Madam Pomfrey says, sweeping in with a vial of potion. It’s a sky blue color, and there’s something about the fragrance that’s almost familiar. She can’t place it. He takes it with a grimace.

“How does it work, Madam Pompey?” Lily asks, as she’d taken to when she was attending to her scars, “Is it a general tonic, or is it targeting something specific?”

Pomfrey raises an eyebrow at Remus as if asking permission, who smiles slightly, a go ahead, and then her gaze slides back to Lily. She launches into an explanation and they fall into an easy discussion about the specifics, Lily digging until she has a full list of ingredients and side effects. They flit briefly to Lily’s own scarring —- which with the continued application of one of Slughorn’s creations is much improved — then back to how one attempts to ease the awful pain of being a werewolf. At some point, she shifts forwards, rests her hand on his arm. He lets her.

“Think I’m ready for my chocolate now,” Remus says.

“Right you are,” Lily says, breaking a few chunks off her bar she’d set on the side and passing them over. “Will you get to sleep soon?”

“After you’ve headed off to charms,”

“Remus,” Lily says, fixing him with a stern look, “Don’t stay awake on my account.”

“I want to,” Remus says, and there’s something in his green-gaze. He knows that she knows. They’re both fully aware of what’s going on beneath the surface, that none of them are discussing. It’s not precisely a peace offering, but it’s something. She stares at him. She doesn’t really understand him, but she never has. She’s always wanted to, though.

“You’re not doing me a favour by making yourself suffer, Remus.”

“Sirius said you did some excellent work on my Arithmancy homework. Said I’m bound to get full marks.”

“What would he know? He dropped Airthmancy after fifth year.”

“The arrogant git knows everything.”

“Not about this,” Lily says, prim. “Had to tank two questions, given I had gotten full marks the first time I did it, and I understand part of the art of faking homework is artful variance.”

“Thank you,” Remus says. There’s something weighty and pointed about it.

“There isn’t a limit on how much I’d do for you, Remus Lupin.”

He shuts his eyes for a moment. He looks strangely young and small, weakened in his hospital bed.

“I know,” Remus says.

“I really don’t think you do,” Lily says, as she picks up her copy of the Prophet again, “But that doesn’t matter, as I fully intend for it to be true regardless of what you’re able to believe. So. How are you at crosswords? I’m stuck on six down.”

They carry on for a while, Remus weak and exhausted but committed to staying awake. They share the rest of the chocolate and make it through the rest of the paper. She concedes to leaving only when she’s in danger of being late, long past when she should’ve done, given it seems entirely absurd that Remus would even attempt to stay conscious. She’s probably indirectly making it worse.

“Lily,” Remus says, when she’s making a motion to leave, and there’s something in the word. She’s very glad she came. She’s very sorry she hadn’t started it a long time ago.

“Don’t thank me again, Lupin, it’s insulting,” Lily says. She feels her emotions pressing up on her again. She wishes she’d built in enough time to take a detour to the toilets and have a good long cry, but as it is she’s at risk of being late anyway. “I’d have been here from third year onwards if I thought you’d let me. Before, if I’d known.” Remus huffs a breath, almost smiles. His eyes are warm as he looks at her. “I’ll tell the others I left you chocolated and about to rest.”

“Tell Sirius --- okay.”

“Okay,” Lily repeats, flat.

“He’ll understand,” Remus says. She has a hand resting on the back of his wrist. He shifts, twists his arm in order to entwine their fingers, squeezes for a moment. Lily squeezes it back, and then she stands up and heads to the door.

She gets Madam Pomfrey to agree to write down exactly how Remus’ morning potion is brewed on her way out, with the tacit agreement that she’ll teach Lily how, because there’s only five months left of Hogwarts, and Lily Evans will be damned if Remus is left in the lurch.

*

In charms , James greets her by throwing an arm over her shoulders. He’s visibly exhausted too, tiredness creased under his eyes, and she doesn’t believe Pete’s complaints about their early morning Care of Magical Creatures class in the remaining snow (more sludge than anything else) is sufficient explanation for it. She passes on Remus’ ‘okay’ to Sirius — who looks as artfully ruffled as he normally does on a Wednesday morning — and he properly, actually smiles. He shakes off both James and Peter’s digging for information, and is in remarkably good spirits for the rest of the lesson, which outworks as him charming a series of objects to change size whenever anyone tries to touch them, including the desk, the chair, the blackboard. He’s positively beaming when Flitwick docks points from Gryffindor and assigns him extra homework as a punishment.

*

The potion has been nagging at her. She’s quite sure she recognises it. The thought percolates all day. There’s something about the smell of it —-

It crystallizes after a dinner she’d eaten with just James, Roisin and Matthew, while Sirius disappeared off to the hospital wing to escort Remus out and Pete declared he was going off to have a nap. She’d been halfway to Ravenclaw Tower when the thought had finally landed, and she’d made her excuses to Matthew and Roisin —- the latter looking vaguely annoyed at her — and turned back around to the Gryffindor common room.

She walks straight up to their dormitory, wraps on the door with a brief knock before walking straight in. All four of them are there now, as expected. She crosses the length of the room, heads straight for the bathroom, and opens the cupboard.

And —- there.

She takes it in: the big row of vials of potions they’d brewed and collected; the dittany at the front, then behind what she recognises as sickening solution, then there’s that complicated healing potion they’d been brewing back in October — the one Slughorn had made for her that they’d tried to recreate —, a regular healing tonic, and then —— yes, a whole row of that potion she’d taken notes on this morning. She knew she’d recognised the smell. Something between fragrant and woody, something she’d strongly associated with their bloody bathroom because —-

Of course they’d been stock piling it. She stares, any residue of anger and frustration disappears because, of course. They’ve been preparing. Of course, they’ve already had all these thoughts, come to the same conclusions. They already understand it all. They’re already years ahead of her.

And she really can’t begrudge them for that.

From the other side of the wall, Sirius is complaining at her.

“You’re supposed to wait after you knock, Lily. We might’ve been in a compromising situation.” Sirius says, loud, pointed. It’s also entirely hypocritical from Sirius, but she supposes it is his dormitory. She steps back into the room. When she’d walked in, all four of them were on Sirius’s bed. Remus already looks much better than he had earlier, but he’s still tired and grey, propped up by a mixture of a big stack of pillows and Sirius’ arm. It’s strange, because she’s seen Sirius curl himself under Remus’ arm, seek touch, be a hair breath away from what she’d describe as cuddling. And yet it does feel strangely like she’s walked in on something intimate to see Remus be the one subject to it, with Sirius hand in his hair, his whole body curved towards him like he’s seeking comfort. There’s a distinct difference in Remus being the one being coddled. It exposes a level of vulnerability in him that he rarely reveals. The effect is almost damped by Pete sitting crossed-legged at the foot of the bed. James — who had been sitting on Remus’ other side — had stood up at her entrance, half floated towards the bathroom in an attempt to follow her. Now, he flops down on the edge of his own bed.

“I knew you were all up here, and if you were all in a compromising situation I think that’s something I’d want to know, Sirius.” Lily says, hand on hip.

“Relatively sure that’s homophobic, Evans, lambasting our Prongs for having good taste in men.”

“He’s welcome to taste whatever he likes, as long as he’s not dating me while he’s doing it.”

“Right, well, I’d rather have my eyes pecked out, frankly.” James says.

“Bit harsh, Prongs.” Sirius says, assessing him with a lazy eyebrow.

“You’re family.”

“That’s all the rage, with my lot.”

“Sirius,” Remus says, but there’s this hopeless smile on his face. “We all know James is the straightest man in Britain.”

“Not even the problem, mate, I intend to only snog Lily for the rest of my existence.”

“James.” Lily says, pointedly.

“Sorry,” James says, blinking at her, “No sleep. Don’t mind me, Lily. Not that it isn’t—- well.”

“Incredible, what sleep deprivation and being a love struck tosser will do to a man.” Sirius drawls.

“Fuck you and your power nap, Padfoot.”

“Gentleman, I think we’ve lost focus.”

“Shite, I’m tired.” James puts in. “Hello, Lily.”

“There a reason you were so set on poking around our bathroom? Or just a new hobby of yours.”

“I hope there’s a reason.” James says.

“I was confirming something.”

“Fair enough,” Sirius says, unconcerned. He watches her as she doesn’t move from her position by the door, arches an eyebrow at her. “Anything else?”

“Perhaps now isn’t the best time.” Lily says.

“Lily?” Remus asks.

“I had something to say.”

“Right then,” Sirius says. “Floors yours.”

“Right.” Lily says, slightly unsure. “What I was going to——- look, we all know I know you’re hiding something. I know you all think you’re doing the right thing by not telling me about it, and if that’s your position --- fine. I don’t particularly like it, but… I’m willing to take it on trust that there’s a good reason for it, that it’s important, so —- I’ll drop it. I won’t push. I’ll merrily look in the other direction if that’s what you all want. But, I have boundaries.”

“Which are?” Sirius asks, assessing her with his eyes beady and alert.

“No more lying to my face about it anymore. I don’t want anymore crap stories, or excuses, and I don’t want you all --- arranging things to try and stop me noticing things, downplaying stuff. It’s insulting. I’m not an idiot and I’m sick of it. I said as such to James, but I’m not having it from any of you, so. Instead, I want you to just say you can’t tell me, and I’ll leave it alone, and I won’t try and work out what you’re doing.”

“Lily,” Remus says, and he smiles at her, fond, “That’s the sort of generous, kind offer we’ve come to expect from you. More than we deserve.”

Lily frowns at him. She can’t quite work out what’s behind that expression.

“Unfortunately, Evans, we’ll have to decline.”

“Could we interest you in the truth, instead?” Remus asks, which takes her entirely by surprise. It comes out mild, easy, like he’s asking if he could interest her in a cup of tea.

“What?”

“We’d all just come to the conclusion that it was hideously overdue when you barged in to look at our toilet.” James says.

“But—-” Lily says, trails off, stares at them.

“Will you sit down, Lily, you’re making us all nervous.” Sirius says, impatiently.

“I’m not a dog, Sirius.” Lily says, sharp, which is apparently deeply funny. Sirius throws his head back in a big bark of laughter, Peter sniggers into his hand, James grins. Remus looks faintly amused, looking up at Sirius with a wry expression. They still don’t make any sense, but she goes to sit down next to James anyway, because —- because.

“That’d be one way of doing it.” Sirius grins.

“We said sensitively.” Remus says.

“Probably only going to have this conversation once, might as well get to enjoy it.” Sirius says.

“I can drop it,” Lily says, folding her arms over her chest.

“I doubt it,” Sirius says, “I don’t think you’re wired that way, Lily.”

“We’re not all incapable of leaving things well alone, Sirius.”

“Yes, you have a track record of staying out of our business,” Sirius returns, looking amused. “Years of it. I think that’s precisely how we ended up here.”

It’s hard to refute.

“The point is, Lily, we decided we wanted you to know.” James says.

“It’s been bloody inconvenient, to be honest.” Sirius says, “A right hassle keeping you out of it. Dull.”

“You deserve to know the truth.” Remus says, softer.

“So, Lily Evans,” James says, and he throws an arm around her, all big smiles and bravado. “Are you ready to hear our final secret?”

“Finish the indoctrination,” Remus says.

“There’s a blood pact.” Peter adds in

“A secret hand shake.”

“A highly instructive code of conduct.”

“Are you ready, Lily Evans, to become a fully fledged Marauder?”

“Absolutely not,” Lily says, glancing between the four of them. “As ever, I think you’re all completely bloody ridiculous, and I am flummoxed with the lot of you.”

“Fair enough,” Sirius says, nodding. “But you do want to know?”

“Of course I do, if you’re —- if you’ve all—— decided.” Lily says, pointed. Remus doesn’t break her gaze, just keeps that mildly amused smile. She doesn’t buy it, though. Sirius gives him away by tightening the grip he has on him; subtle, but certainly there. Reassurance.

“Brilliant. That’s settled then.” James says, brightly. She looks round at him for a moment. He doesn’t start to speak. None of them do.

“Are you,” Lily begins, “Are you going to get on with it then?”

Sirius laughs.

“We hadn’t got to how we were going to do that bit.”

“Do you want me to come back after you’ve had a chance to practice?” She asks, pointed. “Or tomorrow, given it seems none of you have slept?”

“I’m sure we can figure it out on the cuff,” Sirius says.

“First,” Remus says, “I’m curious —— where did you get to?”

“I’ve been trying not to hypothesise.” Lily says. Sirius snorts, a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

“Just checking on our supply of shampoo, were you?”

“Lily?” Remus asks, smiling.

“Fine. You’re —— going somewhere or doing something on the Full moon, to help with the transformation, which is … dangerous and against the rules and impossible , and apparently means none of you sleep. You have been for at least —— two years. The map would show me where you are, or at least if you’ve left school. In October, James got hurt by whatever you’re doing. You’d put silver in your dittany, which is why it was the wrong color, which suggests it was —- a werewolf. Except that can’t be the case, because it did heal, eventually, and because … something much worse would’ve happened if James was face to face with the wolf. But —- you’re expecting some level of injury, given your stockpile of healing potions and dittany, so it must, in some way, be an expected side-effect.”

“Very good,” Remus nods, smiles, “You always were — observant.”

“Told you she was probably most of the way there, given she figured out you were a werewolf because of mini golf.” Sirius says, “And we’d really rather you didn’t find out by accident—-“

“—like most of our secrets.”

“And get upset ,” Sirius says, and there’s a glint to his comment. A warning in it. He might’ve pushed for this, but there’s a challenge in his gaze. A protectiveness. It’s clear the side he’d fall on if it came to it.

“Should we start with the back story?”

“Good idea, Pete.”

“Once upon a time, there was a young werewolf,” Remus says, with great put-upon gravitas, “Who made three very good, very stupid friends.”

“Very good looking, very stupid friends,” Sirius interjects, and he bats his eyelashes at him. She’s absurdly pleased that they’re back at being ridiculous.

“Well,” Remus says, a smile playing around his mouth.

“Some more than others,” Sirius adds.

“Focus, mate,” James says, “You can flirt at Moony later.”

“Right you are, Potter.” Sirius says, “So this werewolf was a stubborn git, who --- despite all evidence to the contrary, of which there was lots, always thought his very good looking mates might one day --- ditch him.”

“On account of his unfortunate affliction,” Peter says, “And on account of being a bookish wet blanket.”

Remus laughs.

“Said werewolf knew that his ridiculous, brilliant mates were incredibly loyal,” Remus says, picking up the tale. “But also knew that none of them had ever taken anything seriously in their lives and that, at some point, the reality of the situation might change things.”

“What that werewolf underestimated was that they were not, actually, bleeding idiots.” James says.

“Jurys still out on that, James,” Remus says, prim, “But I did underestimate you.”

“It’s really horrible,” Peter says, “Being a werewolf.”

“Yes,” Remus agrees.

“We hated it,” Sirius says, “Not being able to help. Just waiting. Intolerable.”

“We wanted to prove that it’s not just that we were overlooking it, that we really, really cared, about Moony.”

“An interesting aside, Lily,” Remus says. “Werewolves are unusual.”

“Some more than others.” Pete puts in, which wins him a laugh from Sirius and a kick to the shin she thinks is intended to signify approval.

“They’re, primarily, a danger to humans.”

“Don’t undersell yourself, Moony, I’ve seen what you can do to a rabbit.”

“I’ll be clearer —- the extra dangers they pose, as compared to a regular wolf, are only to humans. For instance, if a werewolf were to bite….”

“Let’s say, a deer.” Pete suggests.

“A stag,” James says, pointed.

“Bambi,” Sirius says, which must be a well-worn joke, because she cannot think of a reason why Sirius Black would’ve been exposed to Disney. The whole idea of him bringing it up is jarring.

“Fuck you.” James says. “Carry on, Moony.”

“As I was saying, if a werewolf were to bite…. Bambi,” Remus continues. James silently flips him off, sighs. “He might be quite pissed off about it.” Remus says. “It would probably hurt a fair amount, but he wouldn’t become a werewolf, and he — shouldn’t suffer any permanent damage.”

“Doesn’t work the other way round,” Peter says, “If human Remus gets you with his nails, you’re still scarred for life.”

“My apologies, Pete.” Remus says.

“There was a very important game of snap,” James supplies, “Got out of hand. Tinsssy scratch on the back of his knuckles. Pete’s never gotten over it.”

“I don’t think I have any idea what you’re talking about,” Lily says.

“Well, we got a bit off track.”

“We should’ve practiced.”

“The point is, we had to do something.” Sirius says, “It was —- unbearable, and we all hated it, and Moony was suffering and convinced he was doomed to a life of misery, as Moony is prone to do if left unattended with his angst.”

“And then we left Sirius unattended in the library, which we’ve all since learnt is exceptionally dangerous,” Remus says, “And then, of course, the other idiots piled on instead of trying to talk him down, and, well. I think now’s your moment, Sirius.”

“Brilliant,” Sirius says, detangling himself from Remus and standing up. There’s a wicked smirk lighting up his face. He tosses some of his hair out of his face, and then —

--- then there’s a dog. A big, black dog with a lolling tongue, bounding towards her. It barks at the foot of the bed, then it turns around, chases its tail for a moment and then --- jumps back up on Remus’ bed, and proceeds to lick his face, shove its tongue in his ear.

“Padfoot.” Lily breathes, and then the dog is a boy again. Sirius Black, his limbs all over Remus’ lap, mouth still buried in the hollow of his neck. Remus laughs, gently pushes him in the chest to get him off him.

Her gaze flicks across the bed, towards Peter. He offers her a bright, mischievous grin, and then he disappears.

Then there’s a squeak. A rat scuttles across the floor.

“You,” Lily begins, then stalls.

“Wormtail,” Sirius grins.

“So,” Lily says, and she shifts to look at James. Her eyes narrow. He stands up, offering her a wide smile. “Prongs.”

“Prepare to be very impressed, Lily,” James says, and then he’s ---

-- A stag. Proud, elegant. He strides across the dormitory floor, turns to look at her with a look that’s almost familiar. James Potter.

“Hello, Bambi.” Lily says, which has Sirius laugh wildly. James — Prongs — manage to communicate a ‘huff’ with a pointed, elegant, twist of the shoulder. He’s quite beautiful.

“As animals, we’re able to run him about a bit,” Sirius says, “Pete gets the knot on the willow, then --- the Wolf likes me quite a lot,” Sirius says, and he’s smirking as he says it. “So --- I draw him out.”

“Draw him out?”

“Into the forest.”

“You go into the forest,” Lily says, her eyes wide, somewhere between horror and surprise. James is suddenly James again. “That’s --- someone could get hurt.”

She becomes aware of what he’d said about her being volatile: one of the fears that had underlined their worry. She doesn’t want to prove them right, but she ——

A werewolf loose in the forest. With James. With James and Sirius and Peter.

“Lily, someone was getting hurt,” James says, and there’s something fierce in his eyes. He’s rarely totally serious, but he is now: jaw set, expression grim. We hated it. It was unbearable. Intolerable.

Lily turns her gaze to Remus. Some of his mask has slipped a bit now. There’s anxiety pinching at his brow, an unsureness. He’d managed to infuse humour into it up until now, but she thinks he’s on the edge of running out of resolve.

“He was bored, the wolf,” Sirius says. “Locked up in that tin can, going mad…”

“You hurt yourself,” Lily says, gaze set on him. Remus swallows. He momentarily glances up at Sirius, who gives him an almost imperceptible nod, and then Remus sighs.

First, he picks up his wand and waves it. Initially, Lily isn’t sure what he’s done, and then something about his skin shifts, or maybe just comes further into clarity, and --- there’s these red, twisting lines across his cheek. They’re not so unfamiliar to be a surprise, but they’d certainly been muted. And she remembers, suddenly, that conversation they’d had about using magic hiding scars. He’d taught her the spell later, more to avoid questions at the muggle pub than anything else: it only works if someone doesn’t know they’re there which makes this --- permanent exposure.

Remus sheds off the top layer of his robes. He’s wearing a t-shirt underneath, and Lily realises for the first time in her life that she’s never really seen Remus Lupin’s arms. All summer, he’d worn long sleeves. At the beach, he’d stayed with their belongings while they went into the sea. They’re --- thick, angry claw marks twist up his skin, on his collarbone. She thinks of all those nail-marks in the Shrieking Shack. How she’d seen him bleeding in History of Magic. How, once, James Potter had stopped him from accidentally showing the skin of his forearms during a game of golf. The way he’d hold himself awkwardly in the days after the moon. His anxious habit of pulling at his sleeves, hiding more of his skin.

And of course, she should’ve known that. She should’ve known.

“Since they’ve been joining me,” Remus says, “I haven’t ---- it’s better than I could’ve imagined.”

“He recognises us,” James says, “We were --- careful, Lily. We didn’t take him out until we knew we could control him.”

“It is still incredibly dangerous,” Remus says, and he glances over her, hovering somewhere between regret and sheepish. Sirius is tugging him back towards him, wrapping an arm around his waist. “And --- illegal.”

And yes, that part hadn’t even occurred to her yet. Illegal animagus. She isn’t even really surprised by that. She can well believe that none of them would weigh up something like the law against their friend in pain.

“Well we could hardly go and register, could we?” Sirius says, gruff.

“They kept it from me until they’d done it.”

“Fifth year?” Lily asks, the pieces beginning to thread together. Remus nods. “That’s --- incredibly advanced magic.”

“Well,” Sirius says, with a bit of a smirk, “Don’t know if we’ve mentioned it, Lily, but we’re rather brilliant.”

“Show me again, Sirius.”

Sirius promptly turns into the dog. She laughs, wondrous. Regardless of anything else, the magic behind it is incredible. Astounding. He bounds up to her, jumps on the bed, tongue lolling. “Oh, hello,” she says, scratching the back of his neck, under his chin. “Oh, you’re lovely. Can we keep him like this?”

“He’s no better behaved.” James says, dry.

“And he drools,” Peter says.

“Well,” James says, and he looks at her, hazel eyes halfway between anxious and eager. “What do you think?”

“Well I ---- I don’t know, really,” Lily says, and she glances back to Remus. His arms. He looks slightly lost, incredibly vulnerable without Sirius wrapped around him. Padfoot bounds back over, jumps up onto the bed. Remus wraps himself around him, obscuring part of his face in his fur. She can feel some of his anxiety churning off him in waves, even if he’s doing a good job of keeping most of it off his face. “I mean, it’s ---- incredible. You’re --- you really all are brilliant, it’s just…”

“A lot,” James nods. She looks back at him. “You see why we didn’t ---”

“Yes,” Lily says, “I do.”

“Well, you won’t tell anyone will you, Evans? They probably wouldn’t send us to Azkaban for it, but I could really live without the drama of being expelled, or the court case,” Sirius says, and he’s back as him again, practically crawling into Remus’ skin.

She can feel her forehead pinch together.

“Of course not,” Lily says. “I wouldn’t.”

“Oh, good,” James says.

“I just --- how the hell did you pull this off?”

“Well,” James says, shifting closer towards her, “That is a good story.”

It’s much, much later when the relief of it hits her. Her head's still spinning with the very idea of it, but it starts to settle in her gut: that she knows all of it now, that there’s no more awkward road-blocks to side step, that she's fully integrated. There’s nothing else.

“You might be stuck here, Lily,” Sirius says, arching a brow at her. James has fallen asleep, as had seemed likely for the latter half of the animagus story, and the lighter chat they’d fallen into about hypothesising what animal they’d all be. At some point, they’d shifted so that his head was in her lap, and he drifted off there; hair a disaster, glasses askew. Lily feels her mouth soften slightly, the smile tug at her lips. “Ha. Look now who’s sweet.”

“My accusation against you still stands, Sirius,” Lily says, pointedly looking at where he’s sprawled out on top of his sheets with Remus under his arm. Sirius is the most awake out of the most of them, having apparently been greatly revived by his earlier nap. Or, she suspects, by not feeling the twist and pull of being in the middle of it anymore. “If anything, the more I know you the sweeter I think you are, Black.”

“That’s why I don’t make new friends,” Sirius bats back. “Bad enough you lot knowing the truth.”

“I’ll make sure to toe the party line that you’re aloof and unfeeling,” Remus says.

“You should be the one falling asleep,” Sirius says, “Not that idiot.”

“Long night,” Peter says, yawning. “And the wolf’s always --- feisty when you two have been arguing.”

Sirius snots. Presses a kiss into the bolt of Remus’ jaw.

“Fiesty.”

“Oh, piss off,” Remus says, but his hand disappears into his hair, holding him there. They smile at each other for a moment.

“Peter,” Lily says, gaze shifting his way, as another thought hits her. “That night James dragged me into that passage --- he said he’d saved your life by turning Mr Tibbles’ tail into a banana.”

Sirius starts laughing.

“I hate that cat,” Peter says, with feeling, “It’s got a vendetta against me. Tried to bloody eat me.”

“He was telling the truth,” Lily says, disbelieving.

“Course,” James says, blinking up at her, sleepily. “I’d never lie to you, Lily.”

Lily shakes her head at him, smiling despite herself.

“I should leave you to it,” She says, brushing a hand through his disaster-hair.

“You could stay here,” James says, blinking up at her. For a moment, it’s tempting. She never fully got over her hatred of being back in her own dorm, and it’s nice having James curled up with her. She assumed at some point, she might stay here. And then she thinks of Remus’ lost look, the way Sirius hasn’t broken contact with him for a minute since , the underbelly of his anxiety that he still barely let be seen. He’d chosen to show her his skin rather than mention a single thing about his feelings. He needs his own safe space, and that still isn’t Lily, and she won’t deny him it.

“No,” Lily says, “Not tonight.”

“Alright,” James says, he drags himself up, rubs his face. “I’ll walk you back.”

“James,” Lily starts to protest, but he’s already stretching, standing.

Of course, it takes them all of thirty seconds to walk back down to the Common Room, because it’s not really a distance anyone needs accompanying.

“What do you actually think then?” He asks, when they’re at the bottom of the stairs. He’d noted her purposefully dampening down some of her natural instinct of horror, then. Been aware that she’d deliberately bitten her tongue.

“I think,” Lily begins, and she shoves her hands in her pockets, and borrows some of Remus Lupin’s words. “That you’re very noble and very stupid. And --- I don’t know, James, I need some time to --- digest it.”

He nods, expression complicated.

“I’m glad we told you.” He says, in a way that carries great intimacy. Lily manages a nod. Her throat feels thick. “You don’t have to approve, Lily, but I’m --- I’m doing it anyway.” James says, with this steely, resoluteness that makes him seem much older. Like a real man. “It helps. It really helps him. More than he’d ever tell us, and we are careful. It’s worth the risk, Lily. For Remus.”

“Okay, James,” Lily says. She reaches out and touches his shoulder, his chest. “Goodnight.”

*

She dreams of a dog, a rat and a stag being chased through the trees by a wolf, and of Remus Lupin at eleven years old, trying to sweet talk a pineapple. In her dream, all his scars are on show, he bares his teeth in a big-mischievous grin, and then he runs down the corridor, laughing like he’s never known pain.

*

She makes a decision just after dinner.

“Remus. You owe me a patrol.”

“Right.” Remus, gaze sweeping over her, then back to James. He makes to stand up. “Well, I suppose me and James will see you all later then.”

“No,” Lily says, “You’re swapping with James. He needs to catch up on his homework if he’s ever going to be out of detention long enough to take me for the dinner I was promised. You get me instead.”

To his credit, he doesn’t argue with her. He’s made a relatively determined effort not to meet her eye for most of the day, but he accepts his fate with grace, which she appreciates. She has very little intention of letting him get out of it, but his tacit acceptance makes it easier.

“Okay.” Remus says, pulling himself up. He stands up with much less production than the rest of the idiots, who are exchanging thick, awkward glances.

“Uh,” James says, a crease in his forehead.

“We’ll see you later,” Lily says, prim. She kisses James on the cheek before she goes, leaving him staring dumbly at her as the two of them head out in silence.

She leads them left out the common room, up to the secret passage up to the North Tower that’s incredibly flat, despite it spitting them out four floors up. Remus follows her slowly. When she gets up to the balcony, she opens the big doors and steps out into the crisp air. It’s warmed up quite significantly, but the air still feels very fresh on her skin.

“Interesting route for a patrol.”

“Remus,” Lily says, “I’m not really going to make you traipse around the castle on the day after the moon. I asked Sarah and Roger to do it earlier. I just thought ---- we might have a conversation.”

“Of course,” Remus says.

“And I --- assumed you might prefer to do that with a cigarette.”

Remus huffs, goes for his pocket.

“You know me too well, Lily.”

“Never as well as I’d like.” Lily says, pointed. She sighs. He doesn’t react to it all as he lights his cigarette. His hands are shaking slightly. For a while, he doesn’t look at her. His grip is tight on the railing of the balcony, gaze set at some unknowable point in the ground as he smokes. She’s never really been able to get Remus to talk when he doesn’t want to, so she doesn’t try and push.

Eventually, he speaks.

“I made a mess,” he says, heavy. “Forgive me.”

“Almost definitely,” Lily says, “I’d just like to know why.”

He goes quiet again. Shuts his eyes for a moment. Smokes.

“I’m a guest,” Remus says, breaking the quiet. There’s a heavy, serious expression on his face. She’s used to him carrying this easy, affable humour, but that’s stripped back to nothing. “It’s not --- my world. I’m here because I’ve been… invited in, temporarily.”

“Remus,” Lily says, “That’s --- how I’ve always felt.”

Remus nods. His throat bobs.

“I know,” He says, and his forehead wrinkles.

“We’ve never really had a proper conversation about it.” Lily says.

“No,” Remus says, “I tend to —- avoid it.”

“Quite resolutely.”

“I’m sorry.” Remus says, and he finally meets her eye. “The last thing I want to do —— is cause any of you pain.”

“I know that.” Lily says, “I just —- I don’t think I really understand.”

Remus nods, looks back at his cigarette.

“They’re all I get,” Remus carries on, “Seven years. The three of them.”

“You were protecting them?”

“If their lives were ruined by …” He trails off, “It would be… intolerable. And yet, I’m entirely too selfish to give it up. I’m also very much protecting myself.”

“Remus,” Lily says, folding her arm over her chest, “You are not selfish.”

“You’ve always had entirely too high of an opinion of me, Lily. I’ve been disappointing you our entire friendship,” Remus says, with a wry, dry smile.

“Remus,” Lily says, “No, that's --- that’s an awful thing to feel.”

“It’s true,” Remus says, as he flicks ash off his cigarette. He continues to not look at her. “You’ve always wanted me to be --- entirely more sensible, entirely braver than I am. And you’re right. There are plenty of times where I should have ---- intervened. Voiced my objections. And --- no more so than this. I should have stopped them. It was my responsibility to.” Remus says, “I should know better. It is incredibly reckless. They could get hurt. They could get in serious trouble. Someone else could get hurt.”

“Remus,” Lily says, “Look. Let me be really clear --- I’ve known for a long time that you’re just as much of an idiot as the rest of them.”

Remus snorts, a smile starting to pool at the corner of his mouth.

“That didn’t --- disappoint me. I don’t want you to be this --- caricature of who you think you should be. I know full well that you’re a secret-rebel with a flagrant disregard for rules. I also think you’re exceptionally kind, compassionate and -- selfless. I’ve never wanted to be your friend out of some misguided belief that you’re sensible,” Lily says, “But I’m --- sorry, if I’ve somehow --- conveyed some inherent disapproval, that makes you think you can’t —- be honest.”

“I’ve just --- never wanted you to think ill of me, Lily.”

“Well, I don’t,” Lily says, “I think what I actually wanted was for you to be entirely more available to me than you were, what —- disappointed me, was when I felt like —- you were holding parts of yourself back, or too busy with them lot to have room for me. One of the great things about being friends with all of you, is —— getting to see you with more of your guard down. I think, really, you could stand to be a bit more selfish. And, it seems, to care about my opinion less.”

“I think…” Remus begins, slow, thoughtful, “You remind me a bit of my mother.”

“I’m not really sure how to take that, to be honest.”

Remus smiles, properly, and meets her gaze again.

“Well, it’s one of the biggest compliments I could offer,” Remus says, “She had --- some of your spark, your inherent kindness, your humour. It just --- I have always really hated the idea of disappointing you, Lily.”

“Well, I’d like you to stop,” Lily says, with a huff. “Remus Lupin, there are not conditions on me accepting you as a human being. Well, I suppose they are, but —- they’re not this. I think you are —— fundamentally an exceptional person Remus. I always have.”

Remus huffs this humorous laugh. He rubs his face with his cigarette-less hand, then shifts. He turns, pulls out the rest of the pack and offers her one. She rarely smokes, but it does feel like a moment for it. She takes it, let’s Remus light it with his own. Then he looks back out over the grounds.

“My Dad is still labouring under the belief that no one knows, about what I am,” Remus says, “At some point, I assume he’ll realise that -- no one can be that unobservant. But … for most of my Hogwarts tenure, the concept of secrecy has been thrust down my throat to the point that I --- if he had any idea what they’d done, if anyone did, it would be a disaster, obviously. But --- if he even believed that anyone knew, he’d have pulled me out of school. Returned to his mission of --- home schooling me which would be --- awful.” Remus says, and he lights another cigarette. “We haven’t managed to have an entirely civil conversation that spans beyond ten words for several years. We try to avoid looking at each other.”

She’s heard him say very little about his father over the years, but she knows how much of the holidays he’d try to bargain elsewhere. It seemed like he’d spent almost none of the previous summer in Wales, instead splitting it between the Potter’s and Sirius’ flat.

“I did know it was incredibly unlikely you’d tell anyone what they’d done. Even a slim chance makes me --- terrified. But --- I was more worried you’d make them stop. That you’d rightfully tell them it was too dangerous, too risky, and —- It is horrible, Lily.” Remus says, and his voice is incredibly tight, she can feel the deliberation in keeping the emotion out of it. He’s still trying so hard. “ I dread it --- every month. The pain, the fear. There used to be a moment every single transformation where I became convinced that no one could survive it, that this time it would kill me, and most of the time that idea felt like relief. An end to it. But --- I’ve never complained. It's —- pointless, anyway. It can’t be changed. Speaking about it —- it broke Ma’s heart and made my father deeply uncomfortable, so I didn’t. And no one else was supposed to know. And then they did.” Remus says, his brow furrowed, a blanket of something like sadness draped over him. Or grief, maybe.

Lily takes another drag on her cigarette, watches him.

“And I still didn’t complain. I understood the admission ticket for any kind of acceptance was to bury it, attempt to make as small a part of my existence as possible, and they — refused to play along. Saw right through it. Me. Sirius —- Sirius being incapable of leaving anything well alone asked plenty of questions, wanted to know things, dug at it, which was —- incredible enough, and then they —- would look for ways to help, lessen it, build their lives around it, and then --- then they took it upon themselves to do this. Become Animagus.”

“It’s an incredible thing for them to do.”

“Yes. It isn’t just —- that I do myself less damage. I can live with that. It’s… unpleasant, and it has to be said the less I tear myself apart the more practical it is, to keep hiding, but it’s —- knowing that they’re there. It’s being in the midst of my bones ripping through my flesh, the worst moments of my life, and knowing that someone still has the capacity to care about me. That even then, they don’t think I’m a monster. That I’m worth being looked after. For most of my life, the conversation was about how to stop me from hurting someone and they turned it into --- how could they stop me from being hurt. And I —— I can’t lose it.” Remus says, and he blinks. He looks closer to tears than Lily’s ever seen him, but he remains dry-eyed, his shoulders very still. “Even if it meant me having them lie to you. Even when it means me putting James in the —- unenviable position of being stuck in the middle. Sirius —-Sirius would’ve had you know months ago. He’d have had me tell you that before bringing up anything about Snape and the Shack, but James had been hurt. I hurt him. And I —— I couldn’t…. I picked the easier option for me. You were so angry with him, but I was the one being cruel bringing it up, risking Sirius’ feelings, your opinion of him, when he doesn’t trust easily, when he’d just allowed you in, made space, because —— I was scared of you doing what I entirely believe is the right thing. And I know it’s been hurting you, too. That you’ve felt pushed out, minimised. And I did it anyway, because --- I didn’t want to know what would happen, if you told them to stop, and I just --- refused. Begged them not to. What I’d break by accident. I’d have been --- desperate. There’s only five more moons. I want them.”

“Remus.”

“So you see, I am selfish, Lily. Incredibly, horribly, selfish. My only defence is ---- I didn’t --- I didn’t think I’d get any of it. None of it. Some --- glimpse of a real life, school, friends, acceptance. And I was told it was dangerous. And I bargained with myself that --- I could have this. Seven years. Five more moons. Three --- brilliant, incredible friends. But, I can never shake it. I am a guest. It’s fragile. Any moment —- I could be kicked out of the party. And I’m always --- waiting for it to happen, and ——I’m not ready yet.”

She looks at him for a long moment.

“Remus Lupin, if you think I wouldn’t believe that looking after you is firmly in the category of ‘doing the right thing’ then you fundamentally misunderstand our relationship.”

“Oh, I know you care, Lily,” Remus says, “That’s never been in doubt. It’s your capacity to care about everyone, that worries me. It might not be one of us that got hurt. You see beyond our private club, and think about other people, and apply some degree of rationality to it. You’re too good. More selfless than all of us.” Remus says. “They’re only thinking about me.”

Lily exhales. She drops the butt of the cigarette onto the stone, stubs it out under her foot.

“Well,” Lily says, “I’m not going to do that. Ask them to stop. I’ll quite resolutely insist that they don’t, although I’d advise them to be careful.”

Remus shuts his eyes.

“What I am going to do,” Lily says, “Is give you a hug.”

“Lily,” Remus says, but he drops his stance in a way that lets her. She tugs him in, pulls at his robes. He wraps his arms around her back, with that familiar scent of cigarette smoke and parchment. He breathes out. She’s overwhelmed by --- sympathy. How real and sharp all his feelings are. These extra layers of him that she’d never been allowed to see. His pain. She squeezes him tight, forces him to actually look her in the eye.

“I’m not angry at you,” Lily says, “Or disappointed. And for the record, your mother wouldn’t be either. I’m sure she’d be incredibly happy there are people that love you that much. I’m just --- I’m sad, Remus. That that’s how it feels.”

Remus breaths. Sucks a breath in. He shakily lights a third cigarette that she’s sure he’s going for for the sake of having something to do with his hands, because she rarely sees him commit to chain-smoking like this. She doesn’t comment on it.

“About all of it, really. It’s shit,” Lily says, “Completely and utterly shit. And I think you should get to complain about it as much as you like. You can complain to me, as much as you like. All that silent martyr rubbish isn’t needed for acceptance from me, but --- I understand, why that would be a coping mechanism. And I’m sorry that you’ve had to put up with any of it. Total shite.”

“It is not the best.”

“And, look, it seems like --- it’s probably pointless to try and convince you that I think you’ve always deserved that kind of kindness, being looked after, and that I strongly believe that you’ll get more than what you’re expecting for yourself. They did all that because of you, Remus, because you’re lovely. Deserving of an education, friends, acceptance, and a big rich life full of love and laughter. In my experience, love inspires love.”

Remus isn’t looking at her. He’s stopped smoking his cigarette, instead letting the ash build at the end of it. He’s very, very still.

“It isn’t selfish to have needs,” Lily says, firm. “Your welfare is important. If you think they’re only going to help you for five more moons then you're crazy. Did you tell them what you were actually worried about?”

“No,”

“Remus,” Lily says, “That might’ve helped. They’d have reassured you. They —- they adore you. James as good as told me it wasn’t negotiable. And Sirius, Sirius isn’t about to listen to my opinion when it comes to you —-”

“— I know Sirius would recklessly, rashly ruin his life without thinking about it, but he’d, he’d regret it.” Remus says, and there’s agitation in his voice now.

“Sirius Black? The bloke who has literal hearts coming out of his eyes when he looks at you —?“

“He wouldn’t forgive me, if I put him and James on different sides and made him choose. And —- James doesn’t know what he’d do, if you asked him—-”

“Well, I’m not going to, Remus.”

”I’ve been doing it by accident,” Remus says, ringing his hands. “And he’s —— hated it, watching me —— watching James stuck in some unwinnable pit, you upset, Sirius caught between trying to — be on my side, when I’m causing James pain, which he can’t abide. I was so — scared of creating this big —chasm that I’ve been doing it by accident. I didn’t mean to, Lily, I just ——”

“Remus,” Lily says, “This is a lot to be in your head. A lot. And you’ve —- you’ve sorted it with Sirius anyway, haven’t you? And there isn’t going to be any sides, anyone forced to choose, it’s all going to be fine. I wouldn’t —- I would’ve let you tear yourself apart over it, all of you making yourself miserable when it’s —— it’s perfectly clear you’re all made for each other. It’s a package deal. Four sides of a square.”

“I can’t ruin everything, Lily.”

“You haven’t. You won’t. You’re not capable of it.” She says, softer. “Absolutely not. Remus. What do they say about this grim future you’re predicting for yourself?”

“We don’t talk about it much,” Remus says, “James --- he isn’t naive, but he is --- laughably optimistic. He believes that with enough Gryffindor nerve and virtue anything can be made right. I think Peter avoids thinking about life beyond the castle at all. Sirius --- he knows. Thinks he won’t care, but… he will, when it comes to it.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

“We’ll see,” Remus says, a little grim.

“What changed?”

“I thought —— I wanted to hold you off a few more months, past the winter,” Remus says, “But it’s —- become clear that it isn’t viable. And —- James. He didn’t push, Lily. He wouldn’t. He's been very reassuring that it’s a group choice, that it wouldn’t change anything, that he could handle the fall out, and —- I told Sirius that he was right, that he’s strong, that you are…. Uncommonly forgiving, and entirely too full of love to hold it against us. He said it was a —- mighty big risk I was taking with two people I care most about’s happiness. He’s right. And, regardless, you show up anyway. Even when I’m —- consistently a horrible friend to you , you insist upon having more patience than I deserve—— I couldn’t do it to you anymore. To any of them.”

“Remus,” Lily says, “I intend to go to battle with some of this --- ludicrous rubbish you think about yourself at another point. But --- for now, can I at least get you to believe you can have --- Seven years. Five more moons. Four friends who love you.”

He shuts his eyes.

“I never —-,” He begins, cuts himself off, “I never didn’t let you in because of you. Because I don’t trust you, or because I didn’t —- want to, Lily. Your care— your compassion, it’s always been precious, to me, regardless of how I’ve behaved. I don’t find it easy to —- do any of this. ”

“I think I’m starting to see that.” Lily says.

“I’m sorry, Lily. So sorry. You’ve — always deserved better. I know you’ve been frustrated. Confused.”

“I appreciate you speaking to me now,” Lily says, soft. “I know —- it isn’t easy, Remus, and you… you’ve deserved more too.” He blinks, looks down. “So. Seven years. Five more moons. Four friends who love you.”

“Okay,” Remus says, his throat thick. “Four friends.”

“Who love you,” Lily says, pointed.

“Four friends who love me,” Remus repeats, quieter.

“Okay,” Lily says, “Glad we’ve finally got that sorted.”

And then she hugs him for a long time.

*

The next day brings news one of the deadliest muggle attacks in history, with eleven fatalities on a single night. It happens less than twelve miles from Cokeworth, on the outskirts of Birmingham, in a town she knows as one of the stops on the train.

*

She doesn’t properly manage to get James alone until after the Prefect's meeting.

They’re just tidying the mess they’d made of the desks, then she’s got her arms wrapped around him, weeping into the curve of his neck. It’s not so much that it comes out of nowhere, because she’s been holding herself together for days out of sheer stubbornness, but her resolve is holding and she’s steady and resolute, and then it cracks, and she’s sobbing. It’s a litany of words that comes flooding out: about Remus, about how much her heart aches for him, how quiet and brave and sad he is; about how incredible it is that they did this thing, which has transformed into this wondrous, reckless act of love in her eyes the second Remus said ‘that idea felt like relief. An end to it’; that they all saw past his barriers, that them -- the four of them -- might be the greatest love story she’s ever heard; about how it felt to feel outside of it; about those muggles that didn’t even get a name in the Prophet; about their families, their losses, life suddenly extinguished by some unknown force of darkness that they’d never get to understand; their loved one’s memories taken, so they’ll never know why; about how it might’ve been her parents killed by that flash of light; about how she still hasn’t told them about the war, how she’d hidden her scars from them — and then, for a moment, she’s back to Remus and how horrible it is that he feels such a need to hide, such shame; and then it’s about how she’s so tired of the war, and scared. She’s scared. She’s been scared for years.

“Lily,” James says, soft and low, into her hair. He’d seen his friend in silent pain and risked everything to show how much he’d cared; separately risked his life to save someone he hates in the name of what is right; he’d steadfastly resolutely respected Remus’ boundaries, tried his best to serve everyone’s needs; made a Quidditch team of Muggleborn heroes victors because it’s the only place where he has any authority to change anything. At this precise moment, in the midst of all this darkness, she can’t imagine ever wanting anyone else: that there’s no one else she’d trust to have her back; no one who exudes such strength and goodness. “Stay with us tonight.”

“Okay,” Lily sniffs, as he wipes a tear off her cheek. “Okay, James.”

He’d been shaken by the news too. He hadn’t said it, but she could see it. They walk back holding hands. He doesn’t let go of her all night.

*

In the morning, Roisin comes to find her at breakfast. She sips her a scrap of parchment with a resolute, steely look. It takes her a moment to realise what she’s been given, and then it slots into her head. She must’ve gotten it from her father. She’s reassured that someone at the Prophet cared enough to ask, even if it never made it to print.

That night she sneaks out to the corridor with the statue of the witch Amy once turned pink with James, Sirius and Peter (Remus having been judged, by Sirius, as still too moon-ravaged to risk detention ). There’s still a photo of Amy stuck on the wall, forever caught in a laugh. Peter holds the map and keeps watch. James holds his wand high to provide light, as her and Sirius graffiti across the wall.

Their names, she writes, in a thick, red paint Sirius had assured her would be a bugger to remove, were —

Abigail Simmons

David Simmons

Georgina Simmons

Stuart Thomas

Angela Wright

Harriet Adams

Shivani Chadra

Kiran Chadra

Rani Chadra

Indra Chadra

Daniel Kennedy

She’s crying before she gets to the end, these silent, steady tears that blur the words. She is resolutely not ashamed of them. They deserve her tears. Sirius is steely behind her. He adds their ages: thirty-two, thirty-five, six, eighteen, sixty-three, forty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty-four, eight, seven, three. Three. Her gaze swims. Sirius grips her shoulder tight.

They don’t use the invisibility cloak on the way back. She thinks she might quite like to be caught. She thinks she’d quite like to scream, publicly, until her throat is raw. But they don’t get caught, and when they reach the Common Room Remus is still up waiting for them despite it all. She slips under his arm, loses some more tears into his shoulder. There’s red paint under her fingernails.

The war won’t wash off, but she’s quite sure that she won’t either. That they won’t. That they will not disappear silently when there is so much good left to fight for.

*

As far as she can work out, Dumbledore doesn’t even try and have it removed for three days.

*

“Good morning, Lily.” James says, sitting down next to her on Saturday. He’s later down than she’s come to expect, so that she’s almost halfway through her breakfast. She pauses, looks at him.

“You’re wearing a shirt.”

“You know, Sirius,” James says, addressing him across the table as he fills his plate with sausages. “One of the things I’ve always valued about my beloved girlfriend is her intelligence and her astute powers of observation.”

Sirius laughs, smirks at the pair of them. Lily narrows her eyes at him, looks across to Remus and Peter — both of whom look entirely too amused — then back to James.

It’s not just a shirt. He looks quite decidedly put together, actually. He's freshly showered. He’s wearing black jeans, smart-shoes, it looks like he’s actually had some success with controlling his hair.

“Why are you wearing a shirt, James?”

“Well, Lily, because we’re going out for that long awaited dinner.”

“Are we?” Lily asks, dry. “Did you think, perhaps, to tell me?”

“You know what,” James says, thoughtfully, “That part of the plan might have slipped my mind, actually, but it’s all set now, so I think, on balance, it’d be best if you went along with it.”

“Right,” Lily says, bemused. “And we’re going somewhere Muggle then?”

“I assume it’s muggle,” James says. “I’ll confess I didn’t actually ask.”

“Right. Well, it’s breakfast time. Why are you dressed now?”

“Thought we’d make a bit of a day of it. Weekend, actually. Haven’t you packed?”

“James,” Lily says, pointed.

“The Red Lion,” James says, cocking his head in Remus’ direction, “It sounded Muggle.”

“I’d expect so, Prongs.” Remus nods.

“The Red Lion.” Lily repeats.

“Specifically the one in Cokeworth. There’s a few in existence, I understand.” James carries on. “I must say, very Gryffindor of you, for that to be your old favourite eating establishment in the area. At least, according to your Dad.”

“James,” Lily says, staring at him, feeling entirely thrown now. “You’ve been in contact with my Dad?”

“It seemed like the most efficient way to ensure he knew about dinner,” James says, “More effective than just hoping he’d show up.”

“James.”

“I’ve been thinking, see --- ”

“--- always dangerous,” Remus puts in, “But I think you’ll like it, on this occasion.”

“And I thought you might have a point about doing something good for your birthday,” James says, “Even though you were quite ticked off at the time.”

“For fair reasons.” Peter pipes up.

“--- and given that eighteen is the big muggle one, I thought ---- well. I thought it might be nice for your parents, and for you, to see them.” James says, “And when I wrote to your Dad he seemed enthusiastic and he invited us for the weekend.” Lily stares at him. “All cleared with McGonagall too, so we don’t even have to sneak out.” James carries on. “So…”

And it’s — lovely. Ridiculous. Exactly what she would like to do. She’d absolutely love to see her Mum and Dad. After everything, there’s nothing she wants more.

“You’re overdressed for the Red Lion.” Lily says, because it’s the first thing that comes into her head.

“Well, I’m still trying to impress your Dad, and I think upsetting Vernon Dreary over Christmas might’ve set me back a bit.”

Lily laughs. A lightness floods her chest. James has been writing to her Dad, speaking to McGongall, clearing a whole weekend free to Quidditch, for something as entirely mundane as her birthday. She feels absurdly known. Nobody’s ever done anything like that for her.

“James,” She says, reaches out and presses a kiss onto the rough of his cheek.

“So. That’s alright then?”

“Perfect.” Lily beams.

“Told you she’d like it,” Remus says, and he’s got this warm, fond smile.

“And then on Monday, your actual birthday, we’ll do something with us lot.” Pete says.

“We’ll stock us up on booze.” Sirius says. “See if our remaining authority figure can’t confiscate some decent illicit substances.”

“I’ll work on it as soon as I’ve finished my cuppa.” Remus nods, seriously.

“You’re all —- thank you.” Lily says, a smile flooding her face.

“You best go pack, Lily. Wouldn’t want us to be late.”

“You’re —- an idiot,” She says, kisses him, properly. “I’ll —- right, see you in a minute.” She stands up, gets a few paces away before she pauses and turns back. “And —-James? You look very nice.”

He grins at her.

*

James two-day visit over the Christmas holiday had gone broadly fine, but it had been quite saturated with Petunia, Vernon and her nerves. Her Mum has never really accepted that rift between Lily and Petunia and she’d been tense and trying to manage everyone getting along and the downturn in her Dad’s health had been fresh enough that none of them were operating at their best. Her Dad hadn’t long finished chemotherapy, and he’d been tired and needing a lot of rest, which hadn’t been helped by trying to fit entirely too many people in their home, by Petunia’s tight-boasting about her engagement, Vernon taking up all the space and James nervously babbling.

It goes much better the second time around.

They have an incredibly pleasant lunch in the pub, ordering her first legal (sort of, given she’s technically a few days early) drink with her Dad, who looks decidedly more well than he actually is. He’s brighter than he had been at Christmas, clearly thrilled to see her. If he’d had any reservation about James Potter before, all of that’s been swept away by ‘bringing my baby girl home for her eighteenth birthday’ which he repeats enough times, with enough delighted wonder in his voice, that she’s sure that no one will ever give her a gift as good as this visit home. He insists on buying James a pint, quizzing him about Hogwarts and his parents, nodding along although Lily knows he doesn’t understand most of what James is saying. After, she takes James for a walk around Cokeworth: she shows him the park where she’d first met Severus Snape and learned she was a witch, points out her primary school, the doctor’s surgery where she’d confounded the nurse by accidentally healing her own broken-wrist. They come back just in time for her to help her Mum make dinner --- James being pulled into watching a football game with her Dad, throughout which she can hear him ask enthusiastic and incredibly ignorant questions about the rules -- and then they have dinner together round the kitchen table.

Her Mum makes her the kind of a cake she used to love when she was a child and Lily becomes very aware of the fact that she hasn’t celebrated her birthday with her parents since she was ten years old. She feels both very old and very young as her Mum gives her a necklace that used to belong to her grandma, her first ever family heirloom. They’ve bought a special bottle of sparkling wine, which her Dad clearly doesn’t actually like but has half a glass of anyway, before he swaps back to beer. She veers dramatically between emotional and the bright, sparkling joy of watching James try to understand Doctor Who, squashed on the sofa with her Mum. James had confirmed he’d planned all of this before the attack -- had, in fact, been exchanging correspondence with her Dad since they’d had that first argument -- but that throws it all into sharp relief, cuts her insides to ribbons with fear and love and hopeless gratitude.

She can feel her Mum’s eyes on the side of her face as Lily sits on the arm of the armchair to pull her Dad into another tight hug on the way back from topping up their drinks, a question there. She can tell there’s something wrong under all of it. Lily dodges her gaze, sips her sparkling wine, holds James Potter’s hand in the living room.

After they’ve gone to bed, she sneaks across the landing to the spare room they’d set him up in. She finds James propped up in the corner of the single bed, bathed in the light from a rejected lava lamp that used to belong in her room, reading. It’s so strange to see him sandwiched into her childhood home, where he should not fit, but it’s lovely. Lovely.

“Hello,” Lily says, closing the door softly behind her.

“Hi,” James says, “Was just reading your --- year five school report. Apparently, you didn’t used to like to read.” Lily laughs, crosses to the edge of the bed. She’d bought pyjamas, but in the end she’d pulled on one of her Dad’s old Beatles t-shirts to sleep in instead, which has her legs exposed to the creeping January cold. James shifts the covers to pull them over her bare legs, blinks up at her. One of his hands settles steady on her thigh. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I had to learn like it,” Lily says, “To catch up with all you purebloods, who’d been absorbing magic from the womb.”

“Huh,” James says, setting down her school report on the bedside table. “Still so much to learn.”

“James,” Lily says, and she kisses him, twisting her arms around his neck because she absolutely has to. “Thank you.”

He smiles, a little lopsided, slightly modest.

“Didn’t do much, really.”

“No, you did,” Lily says, and he’s warm, close. “You listened. You heard --- what was important, even though I never actually said it. And it’s not just this, James, it’s…. all of it.”

James exhales, searches her expression.

“This year —- has been the hardest, in so many ways.” He nods, his throat bobbing. “But I also don’t think I’ve ever … been this happy. And that’s —— that’s you, James, how you love people. How you’ve built this —- place, friendship, where broken people get to feel whole," Lily says, and her throat is thick, tight. Her chest is very full. “And you —- you changed the whole trajectory of their lives, I’m sure of it.”

“And,” James says, not exactly unsure, but soft. “Your life?”

“Yes,” Lily says, nods, “Definitely.”

He grins, and then they’re —- kissing, but in a way that’s wholly more serious, more —- momentous than any of the ways they’ve ever kissed, with her stomach turned inside out with affection and she needs —- she wants to stitch them together, wants to find a way to pour out all the feelings in her chest, in her lungs, so she might be able to understand them, communicate them, to be able to breath past them because right now they’re too —- big, consuming.

“Lily,” James says, and his voice is low, serious. His grip is tight on her waist, on her bare skin under her t-shirt. “How angry would your Dad be if he found you in here —-?”

“I’m—- we’re adults, James, he can’t ——”

“ — I know, but one day I’ll need his permission to—-”

“—-James,” Lily says, cutting him off by slamming a hand over his mouth. “One thing at a time.”

He gives her a sheepishly look. She laughs. It’s so stupid, her sitting in his lap in a single bed in a room full of rejected childhood-things, the bloody lava lamp, three months into dating James Potter, and he’s so sure, so certain. She dislodges her hand, kisses him again, slow.

“I am —— crazy about you, Lily.”

She nods, because she’s not sure if she’s got any words left. She sits up slightly, putting space between them. Looks at his bright, hazel eyes, the line of his jaw, his mouth. She draws away, pulls her t-shirt over her head. She hears his slight intake of breath, feels his gaze on her skin.

“You’re —- beautiful.”

Her new necklace lies against the scars cut across her chest. She feels it, actually. Beautiful.

She smiles, reaches out and kisses him again.

*

In the morning, she comes down to find her parents having coffee and toast with the radio on. She makes herself a cup, slips into her normal seat. James is still asleep, having never really caught up from the moon.

“You’ve got a good man there, Lily,” Her Dad says, half hidden behind his copy of the Sunday Mirror.

“I know,” Lily smiles.

“He loves you,” Her Mum says. She feels her skin warm up. She hides her smile in her coffee, and then her Mum’s expression stills. “Lily? What’s—- what’s that?”

She’s looking at her skin, eyes fixed on her collarbone that Lily has been so deliberately hiding from them until now. The unease in her voice has pulled her Dad away from his paper.

“Mum, Dad,” Lily says, gentle. “There’s —- some things about the Wizard world that I haven’t been telling you.”

*

“—— and there was that fireworks display,” James says, thoughtfully. Sirius laughs, jubilant.

“I was so cross with you for that,” Lily says, palm curled round the back of his neck. She’s sitting across his lap, James arm tucked around her waist. “You made me drop my pumpkin juice all over my Treacle Tart, and it was the last slice. I’d really been looking forward to it.”

“It was for a good cause, Lily,” Remus says.

“Yes,” Sirius says, pushing his hair out of his eyes, “What was it, Second Year?”

“First.” Peter says.

“Of course,” Sirius says, “Death of the Space Oddity.”

“What?”

Sirius sighs.

“Sirius used to be a Space nerd,” Remus says, looking at him with distinct fondness, a smile playing around his mouth.

“I wasn’t a nerd,” Sirius says, “There was a brief, very short period of my existence where I wanted to be an astronaut.” Sirius says, which is so entirely not what Lily was expecting him to say that she laughs. He swirls his firewhisky round his glass, clearly amused. After much debate, they’d decided the warmth of the fire was too appealing to go anywhere else, and had thus just committed to drinking in the common room, with a Muffilato covering their conversation for ease and a charm making their firewhiskey look like pumpkin juice. She doubts it’ll hold up to scrutiny, but getting into trouble feels remarkably unimportant. “Shouldn't've really known what one was, but --- Alphard, he was a bit of an oddball, good bloke. He liked to … broaden my sheltered, pureblood horizons, and if he could get away with sneaking me out of the cattle market ---”

“---- the cattle market?”

“The pureblood parades of high society,” Sirius says, dismissively, “Shove your children in some starchy dress robes, make them perform --- waltz around to some awful bewitched piano, shove hors d'oeuvres down their throats to see if they can eat daintily, spout poncy poetry in Latin, so that when Mr and Mrs Sacred-Twenty-Eight start trying to sell off their daughter, they remember you exist.”

“I didn’t know you could waltz, Sirius.”

“Of course,” Sirius says, “Classical piano, French, recital of the principles of the pureblood directory.”

“A very accomplished young gentleman.”

“I am a product of high quality breeding, Lily. In-breeding specifically, but they don’t like you mentioning that. Anyway --- once, he found me utterly miserable, Bella having --- what was it? Yes, she’d turned a rabbit inside out to see if she could make me cry.”

“That --- is awful. Vile.”

“Mhmm, and I was six. Hadn’t developed a thick enough skin yet. So ——I was sitting outside pretending not to be horrified, looking at the sky, and Alphard told me that the Muggles were trying to go to the Moon. Blew my mind. So he’d sneak me --- magazines, newspaper cuttings, think he even tried to convince Mother Dearest to let me stay over for the moon landing. The old git had actually gone to buy himself a TV, but she wasn’t having any of it. He bought me a NASA poster to try and make it up to me.”

“That is adorable,” Lily says, grins at him. He’s definitely become more open, recently. She can’t imagine the Sirius of nine months ago telling her any of this. “Little star-struck Sirius Black.”

“Well, if you do name a child after the brightest star in the sky.” Peter grins. Sirius flips him off, lazily, pours himself another drink.

“Luckily, he grew out of his obsession with the moon.” James says, then he smirks at where he’s distractedly thumbing along Remus’ ankle bone, just obscured from view by the bend of his knee. “More or less.”

“You were very cute back then.” Remus says.

“Tiny.”

“Not that much bigger now.”

“Shut it, you giant oaf,” ” Sirius says, arching a sharp eyebrow at him before he flicks his hair out of his face like he’s genuinely affronted, and not at all like he’s stroking Remus’ foot. “Anyway ---- some of it was hidden under the floorboards in my room when I came to Hogwarts. Only left it because I knew Reg liked to sneak in and look at it all, which he thought I didn’t know or I’d have just given it to him, but…. she found it. Must’ve turned my room upside after the great sorting disaster, trying to figure out where she went so horribly wrong with my upbringing. And so --- she shredded all of it, and posted it to me for my birthday. ”

“That,” Lily says, “Is horrible. Sirius…”

“Wasn’t all bad,” Sirius says, “I learned a valuable lesson that the mad bat is incapable of keeping her nose out. Got a lot of kicks out of hiding things just to drive her potty with it over the years. Fake diaries, liberal propaganda, anything remotely contentious. I was amazed by how much muggle porn I could buy with my allowance, before she cut me off.”

“Oh, god,” Lily says, and then she starts laughing even though it’s all so dark and awful, burying it into James’ shoulder blade.

“But it was a bit upsetting at the time, so Prongs here --- set off a fireworks display in the Great Hall. ‘Happy Burpday Stirrup, wasn’t it? Charm didn’t quite work. And you were a day late.”

“I was only eleven,” James says, “And you didn’t actually tell us it was your birthday, mate.”

“In which case, I am glad about the sacrifice of my Treacle Tart.” Lily says.

“There was normally a reason, see Lily.”

“Stirrup,” Remus chuckles, “I’d forgotten that.”

“You wouldn’t call me anything else for a week,” Sirius says, narrowing his eyes. “Stirrup Orion Buck, you called me. Think it was the first time I realised you could be an irreverent smart arse.”

“And promptly fell in love.” Pete adds in.

“Well, we all have different methods for trying to cheer you up.” James grins, “And then obviously there was the mini golf.”

“One of your best,” Remus says, “A triumph."

“And it funded pranking materials for a year.” Peter says.

“I just think --- that birthdays are important,” James says.

“Well, it’s been lovely, James,” Lily says, briefly touching his face. And it has been. They’ve been lovely, leaning into the exact sort of low-key thing she wanted after everything that’s been going on, entirely unlike the loud, overblown public gestures she’d seen over the years and half-feared. They had charmed a balloon to follow her around and gotten the house elves to make her a cake, but mostly it’s been this: a few drinks, sitting together by the fire, presents. James crowned off his incredible birthday effort by buying her a watch, to which he’d made some shrugged meek comment about technically being a year late to meet the wizarding tradition, which was lovely but entirely too much nevertheless. Sirius had surprised her with a surprisingly thoughtful set of vials enchanted to preserve potions for longer, Remus a book on Magical Theory and a bar of Honeydukes, and Peter a large, plastic crystal ball replica with a lemon on it. Sirius and Remus had immediately taken the latter and started adding spell work, so that it offers a tirade of insulting future predictions whenever you touch it. So far, it has told her: she is going to get very fat, her eyebrows are going to turn into sausages and her socks are all going to abandon her to find some better feet. She’d laughed raucously when the thing had told James that his broomstick was going to ask for a divorce and, also, he was about to start growing hair on the back of his knuckles, and then Sirius had insisted on carrying it round all day, offering smart-arse predictions to Roisin and Matthew, to Mary, Cassie and Alex, and everyone else who cared to be insulted.

“We’re not finished yet, Lily.”

“Oh, god,” Lily says, “Really?”

“It is a tradition,” Sirius says, with great gravitas.

“Not for me,”

“You joined the cult now, Lily,” Remus says, “I’m afraid it’s part of the rules.”

“And I told your Dad about it,” James says, “He thought it was brilliant. Promised I’d sent him a photo.”

“Did you hex him? It’s unnatural for anyone to like you this much,” Lily sighs, “Fine then --- if you all insist.”

“We do,” Peter says, proffering her a cup. “Birthday girl samples the latest comedy brew.”

“That doesn’t even really make sense,” Lily says.

“Well, you rescued it,” James says, “So you deserve the honour.”

“Honorable, is it?”

“Better this than the sickening solution,” Sirius says, “Or that --- what was that one that turned you purple, Pete?”

“It wasn’t supposed to,” James says, “We let Moony near it at a critical stage.”

“I did point out that was unwise,” Remus says, “It was supposed to give him super-strength.”

‘That one that tasted like eggs was the worst.”

“Pete, we agreed to never speak of it again,” Sirius says, with a shudder, “My insides. Awful. Horrible. Couldn’t eat for a week.”

“But this will be fine,” James says, bracingly.

“Right.” Lily says, her voice flat.

“I’ll take it with you.”

“Ah, chivalry.” Remus says, as James pours himself a cup of his own. They’d measured out her portion specifically, but James takes a more haphazard approach, guessing a quantity similar to her own.

“Love struck prat,” Sirius comments, dry.

“So, Lily Evans,” James says, holding it aloft, “Grow old with me?”

“Oh --- just for tonight, then,” Lily says, and she downs her Aging Solution. It tastes really quite bad, so she washes it down with the rest of her firewhiskey. By the time she’s swallowed that down and looks at him, his features have started to shift, soften. His hair is suddenly streaked with sliver, laughter creased around his eyes.

“You look like a young Monty, James,” Sirius says, inspecting him with a head tilt. “Less good looking, more of a tosser.”

“Piss off, Padfoot,” James says, merrily. “Gorgeous, Lily.”

She’s conjured up a mirror, and is inspecting her own wrinkles, staring back at her green eyes that suddenly seem unfamiliar. Her face has filled out some more. Her hair’s lighter, slightly thinner, some of the rich red dimmed. Magic is such a peculiar thing.

“I look like my late aunt Rose,” Lily says.

“Well, that makes what I just said sound a bit --- awkward,” James says, and she laughs, shakes her head. She takes him in again; his features re-shaped into middle age, the same James grin underneath it all. He still looks like him. Handsome, eyes sparking with amusement.

“Very distinguished, James.” Lily declares. They’ve started to gain some attention now, a few people looking curiously over at them. “This is —- ridiculous.”

“Well, you’re all grown up now Lily,” Remus says, “An adult.”

“It comes for us all in the end.”

“Well there’s a point. We’re not growing old just the two of us, are we? Sirius. Your turn.”

He dutifully pours his own out, takes it like a shot, passes the cup over.

“I was wrong,” Lily says, thoughtfully, “He does age out of being pretty.”

Sirius snatches the mirror out of her hand, and she laughs.

“Horrible woman,” Sirius says, “Can we take another vote? I’ve changed my mind.”

“You’d still be out voted,” Remus says.

Sirius huffs, tosses his now-white hair over his shoulder. She’s lying, obviously. He looks quite dignified in age; the line of his jaw more striking, his eyes made brighter by the creases around them.

“Didn’t sign up for living in a democracy.”

“I’m sorry, Sirius,” Lily says, smirking, “Really. And I think you’d have made a wonderful astronaut.”

Sirius laughs at that, then gets entirely started by the side of Remus’ face.

“Moony, mate,” James grins, “Give you some tweed elbow pads, you’re a shoe-in to be a mad professor.”

“A hot mad professor.”

“A new Doctor Who.”

“God,” Remus mutters, feeling the side of cheek curiously. “I’m leathery.”

“Hot.” Sirius reaffirms, pointed.

“Oh, shit,” Peter says, staring at himself. “I —- look like Professor Owens.”

“Merlin, you really do.”

“Maybe you’re related.”

“Not everyone’s related to half the wizarding populace, Padfoot.”

“Only one of you lot,” Sirius says, “Probably. Now there’s some question over Pete’s paternity I’d have to double check.”

“Fuck, off,” Peter says, pointedly, then he pulls out his camera. “One of the happy old couple for your Dad, Lily.”

“Ludicrous,” Lily says, but she smiles and offers a wave to the camera all the same. It settles over her now that the doctors had given him let Dad ‘up to two years’; that he’ll never actually see her like this for real. She thinks back to a fourteen year old Remus Lupin getting to send his Mum photos of him laughing and loved on his birthday, and she suspects that none of this was the coincidence James had claimed. It’s entirely too lovely for words, so she doesn’t try. “Right then, Sirius, I’m ready for you to teach me how to waltz.”

“Excellent,” Sirius says, he makes a show of waving his wand, performing some complicated air-piano with his fingers, then he flicks his wand again so that untethered music starts to ring into the room. She has no idea if the two are actually related, or if it’s just for show. He downs another drink , then holds out a hand to her.

He is, actually, very good, although a terrible teacher on account of not taking any of it seriously. His white hair and wrinkles makes it even harder to actually focus. She spends more time laughing than getting any of the steps right, but that’s mostly the point.

“Good at it’s going to get I think, Evans,” Sirius says, cocking an eyebrow at her. “James — ”

“ —- nope,” Lily says, hand on hip. “I’ll be having my first dance with Remus, I think.” His face is a picture. Slightly surprised, hideously awkward, but she’s absolutely determined that she is going to join the brigade of people trying to convince Remus Lupin that he’s entitled to love and fun and friendship. “You can’t refuse me, Lupin, on account of it being my eighteen birthday, and you being my oldest friend.”

“Oh —- fine,” Remus says, standing up.

“Oh brilliant.” Sirius declares.

“Lily.” he says, holding out his arm with an attempt at great dignity. They are horrible, truly, and she’s laughing hopelessly as Sirius barks directions at them, aged-up by potion, twirling about the Common Room and stepping on each other's feet like idiots. S

“One, two, three —- Moony, you’re supposed to lead.”

“Well that’s clearly a terrible idea —”

“— I didn’t make the rules.”

“We never get Moony doing stuff like this.” James says

“Always had a soft spot,” Sirius says, “Told you my jealousy was founded, oh for —— can’t either of you count ?”

“Lily,” Remus says, letting her go with a smile. “I think — -”

“—- yes,” She agrees. “Thank you for indulging me. Peter?” She asks, turning to him. He holds his camera out in front of him, shakes his head. “Right, James it is then.”

He makes a big show of bowing, taking her hand. Peter takes another picture. She laughs, as Sirius resumes his counting, sitting on the back of the sofa, conducting the music with his wand, looking entirely mad.

“You’re actually not bad, Potter.” Lily says

“Believe it or not, they’ve done this practice before.” Remus comments. “No one’s ever provided an adequate explanation as to why.”

“So, Moony, when this moment finally happened —- ” James says, committing to a slightly complicated off-script twirl, then pulling her back to his chest. “I don’t make a total prat of myself.”

“Well,” Lily says, “A convoluted and slightly misconstrued effort, James, given I can’t waltz for shit —— but I’ll agree you’re not making a total prat of yourself.”

“See, lads,” James says, in that faux-conspiratorial voice. “She’s falling in love with me.”

She thinks of James Potter arranging mad fire works for twelve year old, upset Sirius Black; of the Stag that roams the forest so that Remus doesn’t feel alone; the James that wrote to her Dad; that held her in her parent’s spare bedroom; that brewed an aging potion ‘for fun’ and once got his mate to teach him how to waltz, just in case.

“Yes, I think so.” Lily agrees.

James trips over his feet. Splutters.

“Careful, Evans,” Sirius smirks, “You’ll kill him , and then what will we all do?”

Remus is smiling that fond, bemused smile next to Sirius.

Peter takes another picture.

Lily smiles.